From Lawbreaker to Lecturer
by SofluwYerg
Summary: Cinder hadn't been able to rescue Roman Torchwick that fateful night. Instead, he'd been captured, and sent to the most secure prison in Vale. To top it all off, he was then blackmailed into joining the staff at Beacon Academy to teach Economics. He could survive his way through murder, and theft, but would he be able to survive teenage drama or - worse yet - Beacon's faculty?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The plan was that he'd rob this dust shop, strip it of all the dust that the decrepit old dude in charge owned. Then, he'd slip out while the cops remained unaware, and then proceed to the next stage of his own employer's grand ambitions once she'd wrapped her delicately manicured hands around enough dust. And, as a side benefit, he'd get to live through whatever she had in mind for Vale.

 _And now,_ thought Roman Torchwick, _it's at risk of being put back by a little girl._ Sure, he could probably take her. It wouldn't be too hard. But, it wouldn't do to get his hands dirty when his minions (who he had bought at great expense) were supposed to be able to handle threats like this.

Well, _supposed_ to.

Looking at them groaning, beaten, on the dirty road, Torchwick inwardly sighed. What a rip-off. He hoped that the next time he had to rob a dust store, he'd have the luxury of competent goons. One of them landed face-first on the ground at his feet after being launched by an airborne bash with the head of her giant scythe.

"You were worth every cent." Roman mumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Truly, you were."

He narrowed his eyes at the red-hooded girl in front of him. From the look of her, she was clearly ready to fight him. In a dimly lamplit street, surrounded by high residential buildings, with incredibly convenient ladders climbing their brick sides. The girl was certainly skilled, yes, but she didn't even try to assess her opponents and their surroundings before engaging - she was talented, but a novice.

 _How ironic. Little Red was still green._

"Well, Red, I think we can all say it's been an eventful evening!" he dropped his cigar to the ground, and snubbed it out with Melodic Cudgel, "And, as much as I'd love to stick around, I'm afraid this…"

He raised his cane, the bottom of it flipping up to reveal a scope, and the weapon's true nature.

"... Is where we part ways."

He fired, and a flash of colour lit up the surrounding street as the firework exploded at the girl's feet. She managed to dodge it with an expert backflip - Roman, however, was already on the move.

Taking the opportunity, he dashed across the road to the nearest pavement and scaled the escape ladder he'd eyed earlier.

The girl had obviously expected a confrontation - he could tell just by looking at her that she would expect him to run in and attempt to attack her. She was the heroic type - fighting with flair and grace and expecting nothing in return, and she would near undoubtedly guess that he'd fight her simply due to being a "bad guy".

He let a coy smirk spread across his face. This girl clearly didn't seem to know bad guys very well.

He hoisted himself up onto the top of the building and began to run over to the agreed escape route. Just a moment, and he'd be out of here, with the authorities clamouring in his wake.

A shot rang out, followed by the thud of a scythe-wielding annoyance's feet.

"Persistent…" he muttered under his breath.

Well, his bullhead out was going to arrive any moment now. It shouldn't have been much of an inconvenience if the little girl wanted to run to her own doom. He turned around, and raised his cane.

A blur of rose petals filled the air as the girl rushed to attack him. The scythe flashed passed him as he sidestepped it artfully, responding in turn with a swipe with Melodic Cudgel. Steel met steel, and the two were knocked back.

The girl narrowed her eyes.

 _Yeah, unfortunately I'm not quite as incompetent as this lot, Red._ Torchwick mused, smiling.

"Is that all you have to offer? I thought you were _better_ than that, Red!"

The air above him swished as her weapon slashed the air right where his head had been. The blow would've taken a chunk out of his aura, had he failed to dodge it.

She followed up into a swipe across his midriff, which he batted aside with his cane, followed up by an attempt at jabbing him with the blunt end of her weapon. He sidestepped it, and smashed the back of his hand into her face.

There was a satisfying smack as the girl was sent onto the ground.

Yes, the girl was very much outclassed. She was soon back up on her feet, and raised her weapon, firing a number of shots at the ground beneath him.

So, sweet little Red wanted to sweep him off of his feet, did she? How adorable.

He began to dance his way through the bullets - stepping erratically, and in random directions, sometimes slow, sometimes fast in response to the chaotic time her gunfire set. He was closing in, and there was little the girl could do to stop him.

Well, he could take his time. His getaway craft was about to arrive at any coming moment…

He frowned.

Where the hell was his employer? If things went south, she was supposed to be the one coming to bail him out. So why hadn't she already _arrived?_

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the close proximity between him and the girl in red. From the way she frowned and her eyes narrowed, he could tell she knew she was running out of options.

She leaped back in the air to regain the distance she found comfortable. Right into a lovely, predictable arc.

"End of the line, Red."

She looked down, just in time to notice the small red crystal rolling across the ground.

Right underneath where she was about to land.

Right in front of Torchwick, with his weapon primed and ready to fire.

And she couldn't do anything to stop it - not while reloading that scythe.

There was a flash, as an explosion bloomed across the rooftops; a rose upon the grave of Little Red.

Unfortunately, someone had decided to intervene. Standing in front of the small girl was an imposing blonde, with a bitchy face and glasses to complement. And in front of the blonde was a glowing purple circle.

How frustrating. Red could've been dead, but Purple had hopped in just in the nick of time.

"Where do they get you all from?" he tutted.

He could really have used that escape vehicle about now.

The shrapnel dislodged from the explosion began to float in the air in circles.

So, Purple was a telekinetic, hm? The rocks were moving around in random circles, twisting and turning unpredictably. Each time he tried to follow the path of one, he would promptly lose track of it, instead having his gaze drawn to another one. There was no discernable pattern in their movements, even to the most experienced of eyes.

… _Shit._ She was good. He couldn't tell which rocks she was going to launch at him at a glance.

She raised her wand (or, wait, was that a _riding crop?_ ) in the air, and the rocks dove at him.

Each one came from a different direction, trying to cut off any of his potential routes of escape. He dodged aside, and deflected one stone with his cane. But, there were simply too many - he was trapped within a stone tempest, and the only thing he could do was hold back and let himself be pelted. And his aura felt every hit.

 _Unless…_

He gazed behind him.

The edge of the building presented itself invitingly back at him. His aura was clearly depleted, and he might not've been able to land the fall unscathed, but one look back at the stone-storm the blondie was throwing at him made the choice seem all but obvious.

He was trapped between a rock and a hard place, and to Torchwick the rock had always been more appealing.

After all, rocks provided great cover.

He rushed backwards, and dove off the side of the building with a tip of his hat. The huntress soon rushed in pursuit.

She probably wouldn't be quick enough to keep up with him, would she - ? And Cinder could probably find him before he'd get captured; he'd be able to survive the end of another day, and could return to business as usual.

He looked behind him, only to see the top end of one of the many lamp-posts that dotted the darkened streets of Vale growing before his eyes.

 _Oh, you have got to be kidding -_

Torchwick only had time to register intense pain spreading throughout his skull, before the world closed its curtains and cut his thoughts short for the intermission.

*X*

Roman sat in his darkened cell with his head in his hands.

Of course, it was only natural that a criminal of his caliber had been kept alone in his cell - he was too dangerous to be simply left with company.

Still, having company, however idiotic, was better than only having the dull, grey, concrete wall to talk to. He thrived when there were others to boss around, and if they were trying to get to him with this isolation, they were beginning to succeed. As much as he wouldn't admit it to their faces.

The lack of a cigar was beginning to frustrate him, too.

How the _fuck_ had he let himself get locked up in here?

If it wasn't for the shackles around his hands, he'd have attempted to punch a hole through the wall. He'd have probably left a sizeable hole in it, too, if it were any normal prison. But, knowing the kind of cell they'd have locked Roman Torchwick in, there was no way it was going to be that simple to escape.

He could wait for someone else to break him out, he supposed. Neo? She'd probably turn up in due time, but Torchwick wasn't sure if she'd arrive to him sitting in a dust-powered electric chair for a less than soothing shock massage or not.

Cinder?

Well, given her current track record at helping him escape, he couldn't hedge his bets just yet. It would be nice to have her repay him this humiliation, though. He had, after all, been knocked after landing on a lamp-post. Or, had that telekinetic chick managed to bend it and smash his head?

… That would've been a much less embarrassing explanation, for certain. But, something told him that a bad landing would've been just fucking perfect enough to be true. Like him destroying a brand new pair of shoes after a guy swerved and ran them over by accident. Or him dying anticlimactically, eaten by a gryphon.

He couldn't quite explain the sudden chill that ran down his spine.

He was broken from his thoughts as a dull thud emanated from the reinforced door that held him apart from the people he'd really have liked to kill right now.

"You don't need to knock, babe, I'm always ready for you." Torchwick smiled, and winked at the door suggestively.

The door creaked open slowly, and his face fell when on the other side lay the same woman who'd been responsible for him being sent to the slammer in the first place.

It was all he could do to try and stop himself from walking up and strangling her. Luckily, Torchwick was a master of self-restraint. Trying to keep away from the authorities for most of your life will do that to you.

"A shame, because I can certainly say I'm not interested, Torchwick." the woman said. Her words didn't seem to say enough compared to the glare she shot him, which he was pretty sure could probably puncture a lesser man's skull.

" _That's_ what they all say at first, darling." Roman said. The coyness that he wanted to drape his anger in was held back by his gritting teeth.

There was no noticeable change in the woman's expression. It was almost as if she was a statue.

"For whatever reason," she continued, "You're going to be taken out of this cell."

Wait, what?

Torchwick raised an eyebrow.

"I knew the public would come around eventually. I mean, Roman Torchwick? A criminal? How ridiculous!" he joked.

Nope, still no change in expression.

"Make no mistake." She continued, unfazed by any of Torchwick's comments, "You're not going to just be let out. If I'd had my way, you'd have been left to rot in that cell forever - but for whatever reason, my superior wants to have a talk with you."

Her… Superior?

If he was correct, this was Glynda Goodwitch, the deputy headmistress of Beacon Academy - the sanctuary for the ever-so-sickeningly heroic, brave, and kind. So, the person she was answering to would be _exactly_ the kind of person Torchwick would want to avoid.

One of the suits. The bureaucrats. The administrators of the mess of a society Torchwick tried to escape from. And, for whatever reason, they were interested enough to talk to him directly instead of sweep him under the rug like they did the rest of the things they didn't want to deal with.

He frowned. An idea of who it could be had already begun to form in his mind, and he didn't like it one bit.

She wasn't leading him directly to where she wanted to take him - bringing him through random corridors only to come back to the one they were at originally. An attempt to disorient him, no doubt - to prevent him from memorising the layout of the building.

The corridors looked the same, for sure. Long, clean and white - the floors were tiled, and the only noticeable features on the walls were the occasional barred doors. Torchwick could hear the occasional insane cackle coming from within them. The walls were clearly soundproof, however - apart from the aforementioned cackles and the odd conversation between the guards, there was nothing to be heard from outside. No cars, no bullheads, no crowds, nothing.

Didn't really matter. He'd seen the blueprints for this building before, and from the layouts of the passages Glynda was so graciously leading him through, could tell where it was with ease.

The Vale Police Department's maximum security detention center. He had a rough idea of the surrounding area - it was kept close to the inside of the city, near the council. As much as they'd likely have preferred to distance the most dangerous criminals in the country from them, the negative emotions of the worst criminals Vale had to offer were more than likely to attract a few Grimm; so, they'd chosen the next best option and brought them as close to their centre of power as they possibly could.

It was annoying that he was having to waste all this time getting to wherever the heck she wanted him to go, but who was he to complain if she wanted to show him the building's security? It would come in handy when he almost inevitably made his way out. By the time she had finally stopped, Torchwick knew half the posts of the guards throughout the entire complex they'd left him in.

In front of them was a small door with a brass handle, the only one thus far that wasn't reinforced with the strongest metal in Remnant.

Glynda opened the door, and gestured for him to enter.

He smiled and walked in.

The room he found himself in was small and stuffy. A fire was burning in a fancy-looking marble stove on the left, with a few ornaments strewn on top of the mantelpiece above. The walls encasing him were painted with a soothing green he despised, with wallpaper that looked like climbing ivy.

The oak floor creaked under his feet, causing the leaves of the nearby potted plants to rustle a small amount. A few paintings, of long-dead wardens, were hung from the walls and their eyes seeming to stare disapprovingly at him. Perhaps they were envious that a criminal like him was still alive and they weren't.

Within the centre of the room, there was a sleek and polished desk, with a surface that shone in a way only doable with antique mahogany. It seemed to dominate the rest of the room, and the random objects left around on it were almost elevated to a higher caste than those around them.

One of these objects was a small steaming mug, with Vale's emblem on it, likely filled with coffee. And from the scent it gave off, Torchwick could tell it was of extremely high quality; likely a Menagerie import.

The kind of coffee that suited the man drinking it.

Sat at the desk was the headmaster of Beacon Academy, Professor Ozpin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Cinder Fall was many different kinds of woman: she was a powerful woman, a domineering woman and most certainly a terrifying woman. But, she was not a patient one. Her various underlings had found out the hard way what testing her patience meant for them.

They'd gotten over the charred limbs eventually, and it certainly made them much quicker on the draw.

However, currently, she was very much at the end of her tether.

"He's bailed, hasn't he?" someone said from behind her.

Cinder turned to see the sly, silver-haired face of one of her assistants, Mercury Black, with a cocky grin affixed to it. Of course, as with many of his comments, it was met by a scoff from the green-haired girl, his partner, Emerald Sustrai, next to him.

"No way. He values his life too much to even _think_ about messing with us."

"I don't know - he certainly seemed like the cocky and overconfident type; wouldn't be too surprising if he decided to turncoat on us now,"

The girl rolled her eyes.

"You know as well as I do that his confidence is just a front - he puts it up to look tough," Emerald narrowed her eyes and grinned slightly, "I'd have thought you of all people would understand, Mercury."

"Hey, I'm not the one who literally wins fights by making myself look tough, am I?" Mercury put up a provocative smile, and the green-haired girl was happy to oblige.

The two promptly began their usual back and forth of passive-aggressive banter. Cinder had to devote almost all of the strength in her mind and body to not slam her hand against one of the numerous boxes that dominated the warehouse around her.

She honestly hated it. It was dark, draughty and dusty - the air was so stale she was surprised that the various workers who helped lift their cargo hadn't been assaulted by airborne mould. Cinder liked her surroundings to be lavish, and luxurious - to suit the Queen that she was - but being in here made her feel like some form of peasant.

And yet, she was being held here by the ever-lengthening absence of Roman Torchwick.

She'd only _asked_ him to go and rob a single dust store - he was one of the most talented master criminals in Vale's history, so it shouldn't have been too hard.

 _It had certainly been hard enough for him to not return immediately,_ a small part of her taunted.

She soon silenced it.

The fact that he hadn't returned yet certainly gave Mercury's theory some credence: there was, simply speaking, no way Torchwick would have been met with enough trouble to not return from something so trivial.

But, Emerald was right. She had made sure Torchwick would follow her plans - he was either with her or dead on the ground, and he quickly made the right choice. There was _no way_ he would suddenly believe that she wouldn't win in the end, and he was the kind of man to make sure he was on the right side.

So, what if something had interfered? What if some unknown factor had changed in the general plan and prevented him from getting back to them?

Suppose he'd been met with an unexpected issue, would he have been able to handle himself? He was a capable combatant, far more so than the average criminal - anyone who was able to turn up to that scene quickly enough would've been no match for him.

But, if he _had_ been met with someone he'd been unable to beat on his own, what would've happened?

He'd have…

 _Oh._

Suddenly, the realisation struck her like a lightning bolt, and every sinew in her body stiffened as if paralysed.

He'd have _escaped._

Which she had promised to help him do in case something went wrong.

… And she'd _forgotten_ about it. It wasn't as if he wasn't important enough for her to care - she did have a contingency plan in mind for what to do without him, but it was inconvenient and risky. It had slipped her mind, almost as if by magic.

How on _earth_ had she let that happen?

This felt forced. Ridiculous. Out of character for Cinder Fall. She was the villainess, the chess master; she didn't just _make mistakes_ like that. She couldn't. She had to engineer the beginning of the end of Remnant's society! She wasn't _allowed_ to make such inconceivably stupid errors!

Torchwick's disappearance now made all too much sense. He'd assumed she would come in to help him after something turned up that he couldn't deal with, and had waited for her. And she didn't turn up.

Still, it didn't mean that he was out of their hands. He could just be laying low, or running away. He'd be resentful, sure, but it was nothing a little bit of intimidation couldn't fix. In fact, she could make it serve as a reminder of how expendable he was!

Yes, she could very much turn this in her favour. Him being out of contact with them didn't have to mean he'd been captured, right?

Her scroll buzzed, and she ignored it. Whatever happened could wait.

"... Uh, Cinder?"

She turned around, and saw her two associates jump back with fright.

Oh, her face was locked into a dangerous frown. She wiped it clean, and set it back into its usual sinister smile. The two relaxed shortly after.

It was good to know they were still afraid of her.

"Mercury, Emerald."

The two stiffened, and if not for her better instincts, they'd have looked as if they were about to salute.

"Yes, ma'am?" they both winced.

"We're going to find Torchwick. Knowing him, he's likely just laying low - if he hasn't turned up yet, something's gone wrong. He'll be angry, but…" she grinned wickedly, "It'll be nothing _I_ can't tame."

Mercury and Emerald coughed, and returned her wicked grin with a sheepish one.

"Well… uh, about that." Mercury rubbed the back of his neck, and held up his scroll.

There was one new message from Neo.

' _ **Roman got caught.'**_ was all it said. But, those three words were more than enough to make her angry.

Cinder's smile returned straight back to a frown, and her lips went from that suggestive curve to a dead straight.

A small and nervous chuckle escaped the grey-haired youth's lips.

She glared at him with an ire that could've melted rock.

A lesser woman would've screamed in fury. Instead, she chose to calmly set light to Mercury's hair.

*X*

"Roman Torchwick." the man, bespectacled and dressed in an impeccable green suit, extended his hand as a greeting.

So, Torchwick's suspicions were well founded - Professor Ozpin really _was_ interested in him.

As for why, he still had no fucking idea.

"... Professor Ozpin." Torchwick's eyes narrowed.

It wasn't like he had any distaste for Ozpin personally; he was merely the figurehead of the world Roman had come to loathe so much: the "guardian" of the innocent and the teacher of naive, young, and stomach-wrenchingly idealistic young huntsmen. He supposed Ozpin having taught those most likely to put him in jail would also be a decent reason to dislike the guy, too.

Finally meeting the man only furthered his distaste.

He gripped the extended hand, and shook it. His spite was showing, but Ozpin either didn't see it or ignored it completely.

"Please, have a seat." he gestured towards the small deckchair in front of the desk that seemed to be cowering in his presence, "I apologise that you're still wearing the shackles - I wanted them removed, as a matter of fact - but it's a necessary precaution."

Torchwick frowned in confusion, then sat down. He didn't trust Ozpin. Not one bit. He was being almost too polite for someone talking to a criminal mastermind, and the setting didn't seem right for asking the kind of questions he'd expected.

If he wanted to torture Torchwick for answers, then what he wanted and was doing didn't add up at all.

"I guess being waterboarded in this office wouldn't be so bad, but it might get your lovely oak floor a little bit stained." Torchwick joked drily.

To his surprise, the professor only chuckled. It was hearty, and worse yet, felt genuine.

Was this some kind of ploy? To throw him off guard?

He scanned the room, trying to spy any hidden cameras or two way mirrors. There were certainly no telltale signs - no suspiciously still flies on the wall, no strange gaps between the leaves of the plants, and no lenses on any of the paintings.

The only other person in the room with them was Goodwitch, who was stood, stiff as a statue, near the window.

It really did seem like there were only three people privy to their conversation.

"Don't worry, Torchwick, no one's listening in."

Torchwick flinched. Was he that easy to read? He'd tried to hide his glances across the room, but it seemed like that wasn't enough.

"Clearly you of all people should be the one telling me whether the room is bugged or not." Torchwick muttered sarcastically.

"If you want, you can check around. I removed most of them myself before you arrived here, but it's possible I missed one." From the smug look on his face, it was clear he hadn't.

Torchwick glanced back at the headmaster.

"You removed them _yourself?_ " Torchwick couldn't really hide his bewilderment.

"Despite the authority my position holds, I _am_ still independent from the government, Torchwick." the man glanced around the room himself, "And they're oftentimes all too keen to find out what I'm up to."

"I thought they'd bug the room to find out about me, not you. Last I checked it was Roman Torchwick detained in Vale's most secure detention center, not Professor Ozpin."

Another wry chuckle.

"I can't exactly blame them for prying into others' personal business. They're running a country, after all - it's in their nature to try and snoop in on our fun."

Well, that one earned Ozpin a certified, Torchwick-brand laugh.

If he really was trying to get him to lower his guard, it was working.

"Anyways," the green-suited man continued, "It seems you were brought here imagining that you would be questioned. I can assure you - I have no interest in your recent dust robberies, Torchwick. Try to think of this as more of… an interview."

… An interview?

"What, are you going to give me a job or something?"

Torchwick had long since learned that it was best, when being intimidated, to retain a sarcastic sense of humour. If you weren't taking it seriously, they'd get frustrated and it would break their flow - they'd lose the upper hand.

It was also good to try and read people's expressions and body language, too. People were often not in complete control of them - they'd let something slip through their emotional blockade, and you could slowly begin to pick them apart from the gaps.

But as far as these were concerned, the headmaster of Beacon Academy was giving away _nothing._

He reacted to everything he said calmly and concisely, and his words were carefully chosen so as to make Torchwick feel less on ice. As for his expression, well…

Ozpin had yet to break his smile even once.

"I wouldn't count yourself out, Torchwick."

Torchwick laughed again.

"With my criminal record, it's understandably hard to find proper employment."

"Through normal channels, maybe."

The air in the room seemed to grow completely still.

"What do you mean?"

Ozpin's smile only widened.

"I mean, Torchwick, that dependant on the results of this interview, I'll be giving you a job."

He stated it nonchalantly, as if it was nothing major. Torchwick tensed, and for the first time Glynda's iron glare had been shifted, morphing into a lovely face marred by total shock.

"P-professor, with all due respect - !" she stuttered, but a single gesture from Ozpin shut her up. She returned to the window, glaring pointedly at Roman.

"With all due respect, Glynda, I believe Torchwick could more than suit the position."

"Yeah! I can teach your kids how to steal from and murder people! That would be great for PR, wouldn't it?" Roman said. Being coy was satisfying, and it at least had an effect on Glynda, who was (if her face was anything to go by) clearly holding a firm lid on her frustration to prevent it from boiling over. Ozpin remained as inscrutable as ever.

"Lockpicking _is_ a skill that can come in handy, but no, Torchwick. I had something else in mind."

"Like what? Home economics? Sorry, greenie, but I can't cook."

"I'd like to offer you a position teaching Economics at Beacon Academy, but _not_ of the domestic kind."

That was it - this was completely surreal. Roman burst into laughter, panting and gasping for breaths. Glynda frowned at the blatant rudeness, but simply decided to not interfere. Ozpin merely waited for him to stop.

It was about thirty seconds before Torchwick finally recovered himself.

"You… You want _me_ \- _an underground crime lord, the most notorious in the_ entirety of Vale - to go and teach your students about how to handle money!?"

"For someone to make as much money as you do off of fraud, they have to have an intimate understanding of the monetary system. And the average, heroic huntsman or huntress doesn't often have any idea how to manage their finances. Do you know how many huntsmen end up running themselves dry of cash due to poor fund management?"

"Approximately five to six hundred a year."

Torchwick would know. Desperation made huntsmen everywhere much more eager to take out shady loans; ones that he often profited from. Of course, the general public would never find this out about it.

"Exactly, Torchwick. Not to mention that being able to predict a financial crash would allow budding huntsmen to quickly respond to the subsequent increase in Grimm activity. It's valuable knowledge for our students, and you'd have the benefits of being out of this unsightly prison."

Torchwick rolled his eyes.

"Come on, greenie. I'm not about to get a job, especially not one with you. Employment is imprisonment under a different name - except here, I have time to myself, and since there aren't any children running around it'll be nice and quiet."

"Understandable enough, I suppose." Ozpin mused, "I wouldn't expect you to cope with the noise well, given your only experience with children was with a mute one."

Torchwick's blood ran cold.

"How the hell do you know about -"

Ozpin held up his hand, indicating for him to stop talking. Torchwick complied - he could tell who was in command of the room, and he wasn't about to challenge their authority.

"I know a _lot_ about you, Torchwick. I do extensive background checks on each of my potential teachers, and it's safe to say what I found out about you was quite the treasure."

"And just _what_ did you find out about, Ozpin?" asked Torchwick, trying to regain his composure. It wasn't going too well.

The green-suited shithead's smile seemed to take on a malicious quality. He knew he'd gotten under Torchwick's skin.

"I found out about your rather… illustrious former business associates. I also found a rather interesting trail of breadcrumbs that could lead you to a very swift and very public execution."

Torchwick tensed up; he felt numb from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He hadn't been this terrified for a _long time._ Even Cinder, with her barely concealed threats and intimidation tactics, couldn't have reduced him to such a pathetic state.

There were a few crimes that he'd committed that could lead him to the execution chamber. They'd been covered up thoroughly, however - a string of unsolved murders and disappearances with expired statutes of limitation couldn't hurt him anymore.

But there was only one crime that lead to the public death sentence; one thing deemed evil enough that the whole populace would be glad to see you die live on television.

And Torchwick was not prepared to be found guilty for it. Not in one million years.

"Of course," continued Ozpin, "I've no obligation to reveal any personal information I find on my faculty to the authorities. A detainee of the prison housing the most dangerous convicts in Vale, however…"

 _Holy shit.  
_  
Torchwick was being _blackmailed._

There was irony in this, but Roman didn't have the wits about him to appreciate it.

He was pale, and was pinching the bridge of his nose with his shaking hands.

Goodwitch merely had her hand clasped to her mouth, aghast at the crime unfolding right before her eyes. A crime engineered by one of the most respected men in Vale.

"Of course, you're overqualified for the position, so you'll be paid the full wages of a teacher at Beacon if you so choose to accept. You'll be allowed to move around freely within the school grounds, but you wouldn't be allowed to leave school grounds unattended, for a time at least. We couldn't have a former criminal walking around in public then going back to Beacon. Don't feel pressured to accept, however - you're more than welcome to stay in this prison if you so desire."

So, Ozpin had offered him an ultimatum. His eternal freedom or his survival. Give up one and receive the other in return.

Torchwick let out a shaky laugh.

The choice was obvious. He'd pursue the same path he'd followed for almost his entire life.

Even if he didn't like it.

"So… Where do I sign?"

Ozpin's smile returned to its former state. He pushed forward a contract, and a quill, and pointed to a single blank line underneath the contract's terms.

Torchwick picked it up, and signed his name.

Ozpin then took it out of his hands, folded it, and handed it to Glynda.

"Most appreciated. We'll arrive with a bullhead in the next two days, by which point your possessions will have been returned to you. We'll fill you in on the details of your job on the journey to Beacon."

And with that, the most dangerous man the infamous crime lord had ever met got up from his chair and left the office, his shaken deputy trailing behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm planning on updating this every Wednesday and Sunday to account for the relatively short chapter length.**

 **Anyways, to respond to some of your reviews:**

 **I'm not about to give the game away with Torchwick's (probably retconned unless I'm some sort of clairvoyant) backstory just yet - I'd expect minor details to flow in as the story progresses though. I think I've already given some tiny clues about it, though.**

 **I've always been under the impression that Ozpin didn't actually know anything about Cinder outside of the incident with Amber - she seemed to catch pretty much everyone unaware with each of her plots and noone tied them to the students visiting Beacon either. So, Ozpin suddenly hiring Torchwick isn't because he wanted info on her.**

 **Torchwick and Neo have a close, but platonic relationship. I still don't plan on shipping him.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

"Ozpin, you _can't_ be serious about this!" Glynda stammered.

She'd known the man for her entire career at Beacon, and he had thus far come across as exactly the kind of person she'd idealised when she first heard about the reputed Professor Ozpin - calm and serious, but good-humoured and kind, wise far beyond even his years and an incredible combatant.

She soon learned he was also diligent - his commitment to his secret job of protecting Vale was nothing short of exemplary: he would constantly be checking for potential threats to the kingdom, go great measures to help keep the peace between nations, and set the standard for people who shared this common goal.

But, what she had seen him do today defied everything she had ever pictured, let alone seen him doing.

He had not only elected to hire a dangerous criminal as a teacher at a school for young teens trying to become defenders of society but blackmailed him into doing so!

By the end of that meeting, the man she looked up to so much had seemed no less criminal than the scum that sat opposite him.

"I _am_ serious about this, Glynda." Ozpin retorted curtly.

"B-but he's a _criminal!_ Just think about the influence he'll have on the students!"

Ozpin only chuckled. It was especially frustrating when Glynda had no idea what he was concealing behind his laughter.

"Yes, he's a criminal. But, from what happened in that office, I'd suppose I'm one too." He looked down at her, the light of some contrived plan beginning to glow behind his pupils, "Am _I_ a bad influence on the students?"

Glynda sighed.

"Ozpin, that's ridiculous. Of course you aren't. But that's because you teach them to try and be good people - who says this Torchwick man will do the same?"

Ozpin gazed out at the city below them flying by through the window of the bullhead they were travelling in.

"Do I, Glynda? Is being a good person something that can be taught? Or is it something our students carry within them from long before they enter our halls?"

"What do you mean, Ozpin? You don't honestly believe that being a good person is decided at birth, do you?"

"Think of it as akin to a flame, Glynda. Within Beacon, each student carries a flame of righteousness within their hearts. This flame has been with them since they were born - with some, it may wither and die out."

"You don't honestly think that - of all people - _Roman Torchwick_ would be the kind of person to tend to that fire?"

"I must often remind myself that I've done many things I am not proud of, even if they were for the greater good. I am a villain just as much as he, but, I know that I still let that noble light guide me and I think that with some time he could too. Within him, crooked as he is, I see the glowing embers of a good person; and time will tell whether they grow into a great inferno, or die out completely."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You think that, of all things, him working at _Beacon_ is going to change his ways?"

Ozpin chuckled.

"Who said I wanted to change his methods?" he asked, grinning, "I was only planning on changing his motives."

Glynda sighed. There was simply nothing to be gained from attempting to argue with Ozpin. He was a greater judge of character than she could ever be.

Still, she couldn't help but harbour doubts.

She would see for herself if Ozpin was right about this one.

*X*

All things considered, Roman Torchwick thought, this situation could've been much worse.

He could be _dead_ , for one. That would've been bad, for sure. He wanted to remain alive for as long as possible.

Other than that, however, this was definitely the worst-case scenario. He'd been captured, imprisoned, blackmailed, and forced into a lucrative, legal, and admittedly well-paid job. Which prevented him from carrying out the original task he'd been given completely.

It would be difficult to orchestrate the robbery of Vale's dust supply while on the inside of Beacon Academy, difficult but not impossible.

What was worse, he was out of contact with Neo. He'd had his scroll taken out of the original set of clothes he'd worn, as well as his variety of spares. Melodic Cudgel was at the very least still perfectly intact. It even had its dust rounds reloaded from his earlier fight with Little Red and Goodwitch.

And, to top it all off, when he eventually managed to escape from Beacon, he'd have to face Cinder, wondering why he'd managed to fuck up robbing a tiny Dust store. She wouldn't take it too well if he replied that she'd not actually come to give him the backup she had promised.

… So, yeah, altogether, things weren't looking up for him.

He looked up to the sky. He was surrounded by a large number of heavily armed guards, and he'd decided it probably wasn't worth trying to beat them all. He wouldn't be able to escape the grounds of the detention centre on his own, what with the security around the perimeter, and since they were on top of a bullhead landing site, there was nowhere to hide from the people here if he decided to make a break for it.

He was stuck here, with no real opportunity for escape.

Sure, there was always the chance Neo would show up - but, he couldn't yet hedge his bets on that. The soldiers at the perimeter weren't completely incompetent; Neo could handle them with relative ease but she'd undoubtedly need to be careful on her way in with how many of them there were.

That and it had only been a day since his capture. There was no guarantee she would even know where he was yet.

His only real ticket out of here was the bullhead that would consign him to live at Beacon Academy.

A rush of air swept across the ground, and the sound of rotors whirring filled the ears of all present. It seemed it was finally arriving. Any other man would've been glad to hear a bullhead about to take them away from life imprisonment or worse, but to Roman, it sounded like his bell was finally tolling.

His life, as he once knew it, was over.

The hulking, metal monster extended its legs out towards the landing pad and a drawbridge began to lower.

Standing behind it were Goodwitch and Ozpin, one glaring daggers sharp enough to kill and the other with the same smile that scared Roman senseless.

"Good day, Roman!" Ozpin waved.

Torchwick wondered since when he'd been on first name terms with Ozpin. He supposed it must've been much easier to act all friendly around Vale's most wanted once you had them wrapped around your little finger. Friendship was all too easy when there was nothing the other party could do to hurt you.

"Hello, Greenie. It's a _pleasure_ to see you too." he grumbled in return.

"I'd advise that you treat the person letting you out of here, as well as your new employer, with some respect, Torchwick." She spat out his name, as if it were phlegm stuck at the back of her throat.

Torchwick only shrugged.

"I don't know, Purple. I think me and Greenie are real close now that he has total command over my life. It's like being married, only guaranteed!"

The corner of Goodwitch's mouth twitched. She was like putty in Torchwick's hands - being so stiff made her so much more malleable and easy to enrage. It looked like making his way into Beacon had also landed him a spot in her bad books.

Additionally, she was both too repressed and too near to Ozpin to do anything about her own frustration. It made it all the more fun for him.

"Glynda, please." Ozpin tutted.

The woman instantly simmered down under Ozpin's stern gaze.

Torchwick almost sighed. He'd been trying to build up her irritation, but Ozpin had dissipated it immediately.

Ozpin then turned his disarming stare onto Torchwick.

"So, are you looking forward to being let out of here?" he asked, fake innocence rearing its dishonest head in his tone of voice.

"I told you this before, Greenie. I'm being moved from one prison to another. I just hope the next one I go to has better accommodations." he drawled.

"We try to make sure our teachers have the best experience possible at Beacon - your room will be of an exceptional standard, that much I can assure you." the headmaster affirmed, as politely and concisely as ever.

"I've got a nice room, have I? Oh, fantastic - I can't wait! So when are we going to get into that Bullhead so I can finally see it?"

"As soon as I'm finished with the small amount of business I have left in this drab establishment. Don't worry, I'm just as eager to get out of here as you are - maniacal ravings can only get so loud before they become a nuisance."

Wait, 'maniacal ravings'? Torchwick strained his ears.

His efforts were only rewarded by silence. The walls were too well soundproofed for him to hear anything of the inmates - as much as they'd kept him up for hours the night before.

Could Ozpin really hear them loudly enough through the walls of the prison that they'd cause him grief?

His eyes widened.

Just what kind of man _was_ he?

The green-suited professor then walked over to a number of the guards. A hushed conversation broke out between them, with the guards looking continuously more agitated, and their quiet remarks growing slowly more frantic. However, a few delicately placed whispers from Ozpin and they found their cool - clearly helped by the rather fat wad of lien he'd pulled from his pockets and handed out amongst the group of men.

He waved them goodbye, and walked back to the dumbfounded looking Glynda and the amused Torchwick.

"Ozpin - did - did you just -?" Glynda couldn't quite seem to believe what she'd just seen.

Ozpin looked her in the eyes and held his finger to his lips, his smile still refusing to falter even under the weight of the woman's growing mistrust.

Roman almost snickered like a schoolboy who'd seen their senior come up with a particularly entertaining innuendo. He'd pictured Ozpin as a much more uptight and serious person, with a far more rigid moral compass.

Despite how much Torchwick wanted to kill him for sentencing him to a fate second to only death, he couldn't help but find it refreshing that the man didn't have a ten-foot stick up his ass.

Ozpin walked up next to Torchwick and Glynda.

"Well, it's time we left. I hope you're not having any second thoughts, Roman."

Oh, he would have _loved_ the luxury of a second thought. Sadly, he'd only had one thought to work with.

"Not at all, Greenie."

Ozpin's smile transformed into a grin.

"I'm glad."

He extended his hand to Roman for the second time that week. Roman took it, and shook it.

"It's good to have you on the team, Roman."

The words seemed to stab themselves into Torchwick's ears, and he winced in pain. Being on the team felt anything _but_ good.

Glynda seemed to stiffen even more than usual next to him.

Well, at least he'd get to share this pain with someone else he didn't like.

The drawbridge of the bullhead closed shut, and they rose into the air on a one way trip to Beacon Academy.

*X*

It was dark by the time Roman finally made it into his own quarters.

Beacon Academy was beautiful, and he loathed it.

The architecture was, simply put, exquisite - the long rings of arches with greenery atop them, standing near a flowing river, with picturesque benches at either side of the cobbled path, surrounded by neatly kept grass - it was serene. Completely and utterly serene. Just being there made Roman feel uncomfortably comfortable. He was supposed to be on edge. He couldn't trust anyone, let alone anyone at Beacon Academy, and yet the beautiful scenery was throwing him off kilter.

He'd been delighted at the look Glynda gave him when he complimented the arches. She clearly hadn't expected him to have such an appreciation for design, of all things.

Torchwick may have been a criminal, but it didn't mean he didn't have taste.

And the academy itself was anything if not a spectacle. It was imposing from a distance, when looked at from the city, but up close…

When he'd first seen the tower rising up to almost pierce the heavens, studded with tiny lights escaping from the windows, some half covered by curtains, he'd been filled with something akin to awe.

Just imagining the people who'd built this academy, built it to stand higher than anything else until the CCT came along, working for years upon end to erect one of the greatest schools for huntsmen ever conceived, was humbling for him. The pain of piecing together every single brick, of bringing life to this masterpiece seemed to spike through his muscles as he looked at it, and made his legs feel abnormally wobbly.

Yeah, it was safe to say being in this place was bad for him.

It was helpful to have an obnoxiously self-glorifying statue of some huntsmen standing atop a slain Grimm proudly, however. It was exactly the kind of pretentious bullshit he'd wanted to see upon entering Beacon. It reminded him that it was the same pitiful "heroes" he so shunned - not masterful sculptors - that he was going to be teaching at this academy.

Although, if he could, he'd probably have torn that statue down. It really was unsightly when compared to the surrounding area.

The hallways were about as nice as the exterior was. His feet seemed to sink ever so slightly into the lush black carpet, and the walls were freshly painted with a coat of almost radiant white. The doors matched the walls nicely, given the same paint job with almost perfect detail. The hinges were oiled to perfection and the door handles were made of polished brass that clicked in a cathartic manner every time he opened one.

He'd gotten curious looks from Ozpin and his assistant as he'd repeatedly stop to test the handles along the way to his room, not that he cared much. The thought that he'd looked like he was attempting to break into the dorm rooms only made it all the more enjoyable.

Each of the lights hung from delicate lampshades, and were evenly spaced from one another with what seemed to be obsessive precision.

It was this set of lights they followed to the teacher's dormitories.

Eventually, they'd come to a door which was apparently his, given him a scroll (his other one had understandably, but annoyingly, been taken away) and left him to his own devices.

He'd jokingly asked Ozpin to tuck him into bed, but had gotten no reply.

Thus, he had ended up in his new room.

He had to say, he liked it. It was bigger than his previous room, and cleaner, too.

There was a kitchen for his own personal use, with shining silverware and all the appliances he could ever want. It was thoroughly clean - just the way he liked it. When he ran his finger across one of the colourful assortment of knives, he noted that it was unusually blunt. He smirked. Any damage he could've dealt with a kitchen knife, however sharp, was dwarfed by the damage he could deal with Melodic Cudgel.

There were a number of basic culinary necessities available - a blender, a kettle, a large assortment of different sized pots and pans, and much to Torchwick's delight, there was a fully-functional oven as opposed to the average pitiful microwave. There were even a number of empty cupboards for him to store food in.

At this rate, he likely wouldn't need to visit the cafeteria; a little bit of cooking was certainly much less annoying than having to deal with copious numbers of sweaty teenagers socialising as loudly as they possibly could. All he needed to do was find suitable ingredients.

The entirety of the academy's grounds was visible out of his rigorously cleaned windows. The view was like a painting, and caught the setting sun in the frame almost flawlessly. It also gave him a perfect view of the outer bounds of the academy, and from the look of it, he wouldn't be given much trouble if he tried to escape.

In the event he did escape, however, he would leave Beacon the most wanted man on Remnant.

The kind of information Ozpin had on him was not to be trifled with.

He had an en suite bathroom, too. The shower was spotless, and there were a number of small empty spaces for toiletries available to him, perfect for hiding potential contraband. He wasn't sure he could hide a corpse in there, but if anyone went missing at Beacon it would attract suspicion - it was much too risky to commit murder when everyone knew each other.

The living room was nice, too. The sofas were plush and on brand, with a large glass table and a vase filled with a colourful array of flowers in front. The TV was large, and gave him ample opportunity to watch the news.

He'd wondered if Cinder would hold off the plans until he returned. Knowing her, she probably wouldn't - she'd hammered it home that her plans would go on with or without him, and that he was completely expendable and of no use to her once her plans were complete and so on when they'd first met.

He doubted he'd sleep on the bed, but his body sunk into it as if it were a more warm and comforting quicksand. Torchwick was more of a sofa sleeper. He was pretty sure the mattress, pillow and duvet were all stuffed with feathers; the material they were woven from was harder to pinpoint, but it was probably Mistralian silk.

The carpet on the floor was nice, too.

And then, he looked over the entire room again. He checked sofas, under the table, inside the vase, in, under and around the oven, under the bed, inside the mattress, inside the pillowcases, on top of every single cupboard, in the bath, in the shower, behind the mirrors and the interior of the television. And then he checked again.

And then one last time.

… Had Ozpin _really_ not bothered to bug his room? Or plant even a _single_ hidden camera? And, if not, why?

The man was certainly a mystery. In all his life, he'd never met someone so opaque - even Cinder at least wore her ambition on her sleeve.

He'd been pretty sure of it before, but he was now certain. Ozpin had ulterior motives for doing this.

Sure, Economics teachers were rare compared to teachers in other subjects, and compared to Roman Torchwick's gold standard, all other potential candidates were a dime a dozen.

But that didn't justify the immense expenditure of effort it had taken, or the risk he'd put himself and his position under by bringing him here - if anything about this business was exposed, it would be Ozpin's head on the chopping block, and all of his hard effort would have gone down the drain as Roman was hauled back to prison.

He was also being paid the full wages, allegedly - if Ozpin had wanted to cut spending by blackmailing himself an Economics teacher, he wouldn't have done so, nor would he have… _Sweetened the deal_ with the prison guards quite so enticingly. Plus, the idea of a school like this having money troubles was laughable.

If an Economics teacher was _really_ all the headmaster was after, Roman Torchwick should've been his last choice.

But, whatever Greenie's real motives were, Torchwick had more important things to worry about.

He sifted through his memories. There was no way Ozpin would just let him have totally free reign in Beacon, contrary to what he had said before - there _had_ to be some check on his behaviour; the only questions were what and where.

… Wait, there was still one last place he hadn't checked for a bug. His eyes widened.

He took out his new scroll, grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and twisted it open.

An organised mess of dust-powered cables presented itself to him. He looked over each component one by one, checking for anything unusual or out of place.

There, next to the wireless transmitter. A small device was attached to it like a leech - and, judging from the latest model's normal interior, this miniscule machine was not supposed to be there.

In Torchwick's world, the most obvious hiding spots could sometimes be the most obscure. This one was commendable on Ozpin's part - Torchwick wouldn't have expected him to take the most simple route, and no doubt the green-suited man knew this.

He looked at it carefully. If he crushed this thing, Ozpin would know immediately, and likely replace his scroll as soon as it happened.

Better to play dumb than to let him know that Torchwick was on to his games.

On the flip side, this meant he couldn't contact Neo or his employer. Ozpin would find out about it as soon as he did and as strong as Neo was, he didn't get the feeling she could beat him.

You didn't just become the headmaster of Beacon without being truly exceptional.

Still… Although he couldn't directly cross Ozpin yet, he definitely wouldn't resign himself to doing exactly as he was told. Unlike Cinder, the professor only threatened his life so long as he tried to escape: if he was here, he was safe.

And that meant that if he played his cards right the possibilities for mischief were endless. He licked his figurative lips as the schemes began to spin together in his mind.

He was so lost in thought that when his scroll buzzed from a new message, he nearly dropped it.

He had one new message from Ozpin.

 **'I have your first task at your new job ready.'**

He read the rest of the message, and his mind began to whirl into action.

This was _exactly_ the kind of thing he had wanted. He rubbed his hands together with delight, and his eyes sparkled.

So long as he was trapped in this cesspool, he was going to try and enjoy himself however possible - and he was grateful beyond words that he'd have an opportunity so soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Who are you!? What are you doing here!?" the pitiful old man cried.

He was backed up against a wall, legs splayed out across the ground, and quivering in tantalising fear.

She smiled.

His eyes were widened by overpowering terror as she drew her blade from its inconspicuous scabbard. Within his tiny office, there was no place for the man to run. The only people who could protect him lay dead outside the door.

They'd been decently strong, but only served as mere entertainment in the end. Even with their auras unlocked, guards were still guards - cheap and replaceable.

She flicked her wrist, and the blade now lay poised to enter the man's throat. A mere inch, and all the blood would leave his body - staining the wooden floor.

Sadly, the information this man could possess was much more valuable than his blood. She held a notebook right up to his face, with a single request written on the front of it.

"Wh-what…?" his eyes widened when she showed him her demands.

He shakily got up, the blade still right at his quivering neck, and began to move solemnly towards his desk.

He was too slow. She prodded him in frustration.

That made him work faster.

He picked up his laptop - _a nice model,_ she noted - and began to search through his records and data and charts.

With each page of information he flicked through, his clicking became more and more erratic. Eventually, he stopped, and got up from his chair. He revealed that what she was looking for wasn't here, and when met with her growl of frustration, begged her to please spare him. He promised he wouldn't tell a soul - he had a _family,_ who were waiting for him to get back and -

Her sword went through his neck, piercing his spine and killing him instantly. As much as it would've been fun to play with him, murder was best done for business, not pleasure. She sat down on the desk, and fanned through the records herself.

The lists seemed endless. The number of vile people that had lived and died in these cells was great, that much was certain. Trying to find him would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Her eyes narrowed as she reached the end of the list.

The old man was right. The name she was looking for was nowhere to be found. Irritating - she had hoped to get this over with quickly.

She sat down at the desk, and scanned the list more carefully.

This time, there was no need to look for a name. A number would suffice.

She checked through every single room in the building's neatly-organised plans.

7 blocks, each labelled A to G. Each subsequent block was more secure than the other.

There was only one place they would have contained the man she was looking for. She quickly pulled up further information from the labyrinth of folders on who had been there.

Block G contained solitary confinement inmates. Each room was exceptionally small, and all were withdrawn from one another. In total, there were only ten rooms.

There were 7 occupied ones. However, there was a gap between G3 and G5 - the room was empty. The G5 inmate had been brought in yesterday, and the G3 inmate five days prior. There was no reason G4 wouldn't have been able to contain an inmate.

An image began to piece itself together in her mind.

Someone _had_ been contained in G4. But they'd been removed for unspecified reason and their presence here was erased.

The person who had illustrated this cover up was an amateur; they'd failed to properly cover their tracks.

They probably worked here if they were able to not only remove the inmate, but also access this information. They also had acted outside of the knowledge of the fresh corpse in the corner of the room.

That left one remaining set of suspects.

She smiled, pulling her napkin from her pocket and wiping the blade clean.

It was time to pay a little visit to some of the prison guards.

*X*

Roman glared at the large congregation of paper that had gathered on top of his living room table. Since the location of his classroom was as of yet undetermined, he didn't actually have space outside of his own room and the cafeteria (which he wasn't about to touch with a ten foot pole) to do any of the paperwork Ozpin had given him. Which he was more than fine with - he liked the privacy.

The task he'd been given was arbitrary and easy. Roman liked it that way - the less effort necessary, the better.

What sat in front of him was a pile of the applications of Beacon hopefuls. Given his expertise in forging documents, Ozpin had politely asked him to identify the forged ones, and remove them before he sent out invitation letters to the appropriate candidates.

Which was exactly the kind of thing Torchwick had been waiting for.

He was relatively sure Ozpin could've identified them himself, but Roman wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, was he?

Roman pulled a pen out of his pocket, and began to twirl it through his fingers.

He picked up the first sheets of paper.

 _Miss Pyrrha Nikos - Age 17._

The image underneath featured a girl with red hair tied in a striking ponytail. She had green eyes that seemed to sparkle from out of the photo Roman had been given. A spark of… Something. It was hard to tell exactly _what_ through the photo.

 _Won four Mistralian regional tournaments in a row, graduated top of her class in Sanctum Academy…_

 _Was the mascot for Pumpkin Pete's?_

Roman cringed. He'd seen the production lines for the cereal before - it was made at a factory he'd robbed a while back - and some of the strange compounds they added to their mixture had made his hair stand on end.

 _Outstanding aura, physical strength, speed and stamina combined with excellent tactical thinking and an abnormally powerful semblance._

Well, this one was easy enough to prove. He whipped his scroll out of his pocket, and typed "Pyrrha Nikos" into the search engine.

' **Another victory for the Invincible Girl!'** blared out at him, along with others such as ' **Mistral's Greatest Gem!'**.

Much like the cereal she was the poster girl for, what he'd seen was enough for him to develop an instant distaste for her. "Invincible Girl"? It sounded like the title a narcissist would give themselves. Not the name people would give to someone _else._ It was almost as if they actually _respected_ her! He supposed it must've looked good in the papers.

Either way, it would've been far too conspicuous to drop her in the pile for fakes.

He rolled his eyes and added the first person to the pile of the accepted.

Well, knowing the type, she'd probably be boring. Under normal circumstances, he'd have calmly emptied her wallet, but robbing one's students was frowned upon in huntsman academies.

He looked to the next one in the pile.

 _Miss Blake Belladonna - Age 17._

She had long and wild black locks that draped over her shoulders, and a pair of golden orbs that reflected the light back into his face even on film. Almost like a cat caught in headlights. There was also an… oddly shaped bow on her head.

 _Notable roles/achievements: None applicable._

He laughed.

 _Average aura, outstanding agility, somewhat below average stamina. Good analytical skills, quick under pressure._

Interesting, but still…

There was no fucking way any normal school would accept such a blatantly suspicious applicant.

The information in the document likely wasn't false - that _none applicable_ simply sealed the deal. Nobody would put that on an application if they actually wanted to get into the school - they'd lie instead.

Worse still, despite this lack of accomplishment, she was supposedly an able fighter. She had to have done something to achieve that kind of talent, but for whatever reason didn't feel the need to talk about her combat training.

So, for whatever reason, she didn't want to reveal _anything_ about her past, and that made her all the more fishy. She had something to hide, that much was clear.

As for what, Torchwick could only hazard a guess.

Well, Ms. Belladonna would have to count her lucky stars. He was in a spiteful mood, and if he was potentially inviting someone suspicious or criminal into the school, it was all the better for spiting Ozpin.

Onto the accepted pile went Blake Belladonna.

He'd already pulled the next one out by the time Belladonna's transcripts went on top of Pyrrha's.

 _Miss Yang Xiao-Long - Age 17._

A buxom blonde returned his stares at her photo with a challenging lilac glare and a half-smirk. Her hair hung wildly about her shoulders; it seemed almost like the mane of a lion. He smiled.

 _A confident one, hm?_ She looked like a born troublemaker, to say the very least.

 _Graduated from Signal Academy, destroyed a criminal night club._

A criminal _night club?_ That sounded oddly familiar.

Wait, was this - was this the girl who had trashed Junior's club?

This was way too good to be true! According to his long time associate, the girl had a real mean streak and a tempestuous temper. She would be the _perfect_ kind of person to bring in if Torchwick wanted to cause chaos and disorder! Just one minor teenage dispute and _bam -_ property damage!

 _Above average aura, above average ability, outstanding strength and stamina. Highly confident and skilled, but lacking in self-control. Potentially devastating Semblance._

A _literal_ blonde bombshell, one that would explode if stepped on carelessly. He could already see Ozpin's frowning face from his living room. Ms. Nikos may have been boring, but it seemed the rest of the applicants wouldn't be quite so… stable.

He checked the next applicant, and his grin twisted into a grimace.

 _Weiss Schnee - Age 17._

A _Schnee._ Perfect. Just damn perfect. Served him right for thinking Ms. Nikos was as bad as it was going to get. She looked like the rest of her infuriating family - with hair whiter than snow and perfect, crystal blue eyes. Her complexion was absolutely gorgeous, as if she'd been born with pure silk instead of skin like the rest of the world.

The only imperfection on her features was a scar on her left eye. No doubt from where a butter knife had lightly scraped her delicate skin. He wouldn't be surprised if the faunus butler who was likely responsible had been discreetly overworked to death.

 _Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, Finished first in the Atlesian Enterprise Tournament, Involved in numerous charity events…_

And the list just stretched on.

Shit… He couldn't _stand_ to see this girl - not even a single time. He didn't even need to meet her face-to-face to know what kind of person she'd be.

He'd met Jacques Schnee once, long ago. He was a man with a titanic ego, which would no doubt engulf his own children. This would be another Jacques… With added bitchiness.

Could he put her on the pile of fakes?

No, the Schnee name was a verification of authenticity unlike any other. It would be much, much too obvious if he left her in the rejects pile. It would give the game away immediately.

Her combat performances were _par for the course_ for a Schnee - exceptional. Or at least, that's what he wagered. He had to tear his eyes off of it while he put it on the pile of accepted students. If he looked at it for too long, he'd probably blind himself with her glowing reputation.

Next up, a boy.

 _Lie Ren - Age 17._

His eyes scanned the page. He seemed normal enough, but mostly unremarkable. The details on the transcripts checked out, and he couldn't identify any of the common tricks used in forgery to make falsehoods truths, so he simply put him on the accepted pile.

Forgettable faces diluted the increasingly dangerous concoction Torchwick was beginning to see boil within that growing stack of sheets.

 _Nora Valkyrie - Age 17._

The more generics he could fill the gap with, the less likely Ozpin was to notice how ridiculous some of his applicants were, and here were a boy and a girl, one quiet looking and the other bubbly.

Nothing special or distinct about the pair _whatsoever._

He worked through the rest of the students quickly.

Before long, there were two complete and meticulously organised bundles of bureaucracy sitting on his table.

Now, for one last thing to do.

He closed his eyes, and flicked through the pile of forgeries.

 _There._

He pulled one out, and inspected it.

 _Jaune Arc - Age 17._

Oh, it was _that_ one. Of all of the forged transcripts, this one was by far the most blatantly false.

One didn't simply attend a top academy in Vacuo and then come out with such average results. He'd performed middlingly in all of his classes in a school that sought talent. Worse still, it was the same school that had been _completely destroyed_ a number of years ago by an uncanny surge of Grimm. He didn't want people looking up records, so he chose the school at which there were no records left to see.

He wanted _so badly_ to be untraceable and forgettable, and there was nothing more suspicious than a desire to remain incognito.

Not to mention that before the date that the school was destroyed, the grading system they used had been an older system than the one used in the transcript itself.

The notable roles/accomplishments section had been torn apart by a short sequence of CCTS searches. And the section on his physical talents?

With what had already been on the transcripts, when he'd seen Jaune's supposed physical attributes and aura they simply didn't have a leg to stand on.

It was probably just as fake as the rest of the application.

The only real part of it was the boy's face. It would've been awkward if he put the face of a hardened hunter there, only to turn up the goofy boy that seemed to try to avoid eye contact even on paper - an attempt to fake it would've only backfired.

He had an unruly blonde mop of hair, and blue eyes. He was awkward and scraggly, too long and too thin in the areas that had to be toned and muscular. His teeth clung to his lower lip in what appeared to be a futile attempt to hold in his own mounting nerves. He puffed out his chest, perhaps in an attempt to fool himself; it was about as convincing a ruse as the transcripts he'd forged.

Oh, dear… He wore his heart on his sleeve so proudly it could be easily captured on film. Roman pinched the bridge of his nose.

This could still work, though. This could work perfectly. Roman just had to do some touchups and make the transcript a little more… _convincing._

From the looks of him, Jaune was a big dreamer without the skill or smarts to make his dreams come true. Nothing but another star-struck civilian who wanted to get into beacon for all the fame and glory.

If that was the case, there was a chance he didn't even have his aura unlocked. Which could very easily result in his death.

Nothing would reflect more poorly on Ozpin than a civilian dying in his school because they'd somehow snuck in through the admissions process.

He took out his pen, and began to scribble on the back on a blank sheet of paper.

5 minutes passed before there was a convincing and unsuspicious academic record of an aspiring huntsman named Jaune Arc lying on the table.

One covert trip to a nearby photocopier later, he had a perfect transcript for him.

He carefully placed it into the accepted pile, and smirked.

Jaune Arc could thank his fortunes. Of all the people trying to fake their way into Beacon, it was he who had been chosen by Roman.

Perhaps he'd be grateful enough to perish in an unfortunate accident for him. Then Roman might finally get to see Ozpin frown.

This was going to be _golden_.

If he was being allowed to have this much fun already, perhaps life at Beacon wouldn't be nearly as boring as he'd first thought.

He reached for his scroll, and phoned Ozpin. He picked up almost immediately.

" **You're done?"** the man asked.

"Yep. Two piles of brats, one gullible enough for honesty and the other gutsy enough to lie." Torchwick said, almost sounding bored. He couldn't let Ozpin think he was too enthusiastic about this - then he might have caught on to the trick.

" **Wonderful. Glynda will pick up the transcripts soon, and then that will be all for the coming 3 days. I'd advise getting some rest and preparing your lessons. I trust you've familiarised yourself with each of the student's names and faces?"**

Torchwick scoffed.

"Who do you think I am, Ozpin?" he challenged.

" **Beacon's new Economics teacher, Roman Torchwick. Who else?"**

He then hung up.

*X*

Ozpin put the scroll down, and took a long sip of his coffee.

"You do realise he's going to tamper with the transcripts, don't you?" asked Glynda. Her eyes seemed to jump out of her head at him.

Glynda could be unexpectedly stubborn when she needed to.

He didn't mind much. If she simply followed his orders blindly, it meant if he ever started making bad decisions she wouldn't have the gumption to disobey him.

… Although, with her glaring at him so intently, he was feeling more than a little awkward.

"Yes, Glynda. I know he will."

He pushed his glasses up, and then took another sip from his caffeinated wellspring.

"Then why do you sit here, and do _nothing_ about it?" she yelled.

Glynda got very riled up over Torchwick, which was as of yet more than understandable. Torchwick had been, as Ozpin predicted, not very happy about his new job.

Torchwick would be won over in time and, hopefully, so would Glynda.

The years had made Ozpin patient. He was more than willing to wait years for Torchwick to come around, and could have waited centuries for Glynda to forgive him.

If only the world was willing to wait for nearly as long.

"I do nothing about it because there's, as of yet, no pressing need to act," Ozpin mused, before continuing, "Goodness, you're sounding like James."

"You're saying that _tampering with official documents_ with the end result being scars on Beacon's reputation is not a 'pressing need to act'!?"

Ozpin gazed out across the city from the windows that surrounded his office.

"Glynda, Torchwick is a careful man. He made it incredibly far in the Vale underground for a reason - he picks his fights and tries to always ensure his success."

"And bludgeons people to death on a regular basis…" Glynda grumbled under her breath.

Ozpin repressed a sigh. Glynda could surprisingly petulant when she so desired.

"He would try to hide his acts; and just what would he do to be as covert as possible? Likely place only one or two forged documents with the real ones, which is certainly not an unmanageable number. Where's the harm in giving a fortunate soul the chance to study at the Academy of their dreams?"

"Why even give them to him if you know he's going to alter our admissions?" Glynda's voice had gained a razor sharp edge. Ozpin would have to be careful to not cut himself upon it.

"Glynda, remember the average number of false students going to Beacon? Last year, we had about twelve entering the school from the admissions we'd been given - and that time it was you and me checking them. Worse still, there was that time we left the admissions to _Peaches._ "

Glynda shivered.

"It's safe to say he has much more experience with document forging than either of us do, Glynda. And I would take one student brought here deliberately over an accidental twenty-seven."

 _Plus,_ thought Ozpin, _it will make him much more comfortable around us. Which will undoubtedly help in the long term._

From the hesitant expression she had, it seemed that he answer he'd given still wasn't enough to satisfy her completely.

"Why, Ozpin? _Why_ go this far for… _For a notorious outlaw?_ What's the real motive behind bringing him here?" she asked.

Ozpin chuckled.

"I already told you. Beacon needs an Economics teacher, one with combat training and unlocked Aura. Torchwick just so happened to be available."

Glynda rolled her eyes.

Ozpin felt bad for hiding his intentions from her, _really,_ he did. He had known Glynda for a long time, and to betray her trust like this was painful.

He wasn't lying about Beacon needing an Economics teacher - he'd wanted one for a long time but they always seemed to be in short supply and of dissatisfactory quality. So, yes, Torchwick _was_ convenient for filling the role.

But, Glynda was right,there _was_ more to it than that.

Torchwick had plenty to offer Ozpin for his other occupation, as well. A talented fighter and brilliant economist with extensive connections to criminal underworld, and from what Ozpin himself had seen, an astute judge of character who paid meticulous attention to his surroundings.

Having him on his side would be a massive boon, but telling Glynda (or worse yet, James) that he planned to make Torchwick, a thief, crime lord, and murderer, a member of their secret assembly would undoubtedly upset them.

So, he would keep his plans to himself until Torchwick proved to him that he had what it took. He was a patient man, after all.

He drank yet another mouthful of his coffee.

It would be undoubtedly interesting to see which civilian had forged their way into Beacon among the student body. Last year, Ozpin had let that girl from team CFVY through and she had more than proven herself.

Ozpin wondered what kind of person they'd be this time around - it was always entertaining to find out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Blake Belladonna woke with a start.

A single look outside the window confirmed that it was early morning - the sun was blearily lugging its way up the western side of the sky, peering over Vale's skyline and bathing the world in warmth.

The small house she had hidden herself in was derelict and hidden from the public eye. The cracking plaster and boarded up walls served to hide her from the outside world, and very few people ever bothered to join her within. When they did, they were usually smoking suspicious substances or engaging in some form of illicit deal.

Blake merely hid herself from them - perhaps in the rotting ceiling, or inside one of the walls, or maybe even under their very feet. While she certainly disapproved of what they were doing, drawing attention to herself was the last thing she wanted.

Which made it all the more confusing to her as to why she was staying here in the first place. If she moved around, it would be obviously be harder for people to track her and she could live out the rest of her days in... Well, the closest one could get to peace after abandoning a terrorist organisation.

The reason she was here was simple, but confusing nonetheless.

In a fit of what seemed to be madness, she had decided to apply to Beacon. And she'd set _this place_ as her home address.

The transcripts she'd handed in were as close to real information as a runaway could give. When she took the small combat exam they had given her (since she had no transcripts to hand in, she had to prove herself the hard way), she'd succeeded with flying colours.

But she hadn't written anything about herself down. Sure, they had her picture, and the school's notes on her performance in combat, but anyone who read it would know next to nothing about her.

She couldn't bring herself to make up a past for herself. It would be like trying to forget the real one she'd left behind if she did.

And she couldn't face herself if she ran away from the mistakes she had thus far tried to carry with her.

Why _had_ she applied, even?

She looked into the cracked pane of glass she'd been using as an impromptu mirror.

Staring back at her was the face of a coward.

That was it. She'd been tired of seeing that face in her own reflection. A face twisted by fear and guilt - she'd _honestly_ been under the impression she could make it up to the people she'd killed by becoming a Huntress. By helping others.

And she'd gone and squandered it because she felt the need to be honest for once.

A knock abruptly surrounded from downstairs. Blake's ears twitched, and she was instantly on her feet.

Nobody _ever_ knocked when they wanted to go into this building. There was nobody inside to knock for.

Did this person know that she was in here?

"Uh, hello? Miss… Belladonna?" a small voice resounded from downstairs.

Her fears were confirmed.

Whoever this was, they knew she was in here.

It hadn't sounded like anyone she'd known from the White Fang; but you didn't need to know someone for them to be potentially dangerous.

She picked up Gambol Shroud, and began to creep towards the window.

Standing at the door was…

A… Postman?

He was nervously scratching the back of his neck with his left hand, and carrying an envelope in his right.

"Is anybody in here…? Hello?" he queried, before shrugging and beginning to leave.

Blake vaulted over the windowsill, and landed on the pavement silently, before beginning to walk after him.

Whoever he was, and whatever the reason he was here, he'd managed to find her, and knew her identity.

Which meant he was a threat.

The man barely had time to think before Blake was behind him, with Gambol Shroud to his throat.

"Who sent you here?" demanded Blake.

The man was shaking madly.

"I-I'm sorry! I don't have any money! Please don't hurt me!" the man squealed.

He… Wasn't listening to her.

"I _asked_ who sent you here, _not_ if you had any money."

He ignored her again, choosing to babble about how he was just a postman and didn't mean any harm to anyone.

"Will you _be quiet and listen to me?"_ Blake seethed, pressing her weapon closer to his throat.

That shut him up quickly.

"Good," she continued, speaking slowly to make her sound more intimidating, "Now, I want you to tell me who sent you here, and how you know Blake Belladonna."

"She - she's just the one I was supposed to give this letter to! I was sent here by my boss - I swear, I don't know anything - just please don't -"

"Drop the letter at your feet." she growled.

The man complied, and soon there was a letter on the floor beneath his legs. She dragged it closer with her foot, and then with a swift chop to the neck, knocked the man out.

She inspected the letter more closely. Outside of being addressed to Blake Belladonna, there was nothing else about the letter that was interesting.

But, someone writing a letter for her, as well as knowing her current address, was reason enough for suspicion.

She opened it wearily, before pulling the contents of it out.

There was the insignia of Vale emblazoned on the top of the high quality paper she found folded within.

She read the contents of the page.

And her heart leapt.

This wasn't real. There was no way - absolutely no conceivable way this could be true. Was this some kind of Ninjas of Love induced fever dream? A pinch to her face soon confirmed otherwise.

She reread the page, expecting it to be some kind of mistake; that she just hadn't read it properly, that a second look would prove it was something she only thought she'd seen; nothing but a hallucination.

But every time she pored over it, again and again and again, the words staring up at her didn't change even a bit.

 _Dear Miss Blake Belladonna,_

 _We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted for a position at Vale's own Beacon Academy._

 _The first airships departing there shall be at noon this Monday. You are advised to pack your belongings and prepare for moving into the dormitories posthaste._

 _Attached are a series of disclaimers, and a number of forms you are required to fill out and hand in on the day of your arrival. Also attached is a copy of the timetable, which you will be expected to follow, and the Academy's code of conduct._

 _Best regards,_

 _Vice Headmaster of Beacon Academy - Glynda Goodwitch._

… It was even signed with a genuine signature, in ink. All of the documents were authentic, and contained sound information.

This wasn't a dream, nor was it a trap set by the White Fang - if they knew where she was, Adam would've come for her himself.

This was reality.

Blake Belladonna, former terrorist and murderer, was going to Beacon Academy. It was all she could do to stop herself from crying - the flood of emotions was threatening to break through the dams she had built within herself long ago.

She hauled the unconscious postman onto her shoulders, and leaned him against a nearby lamppost. There wasn't a chance she would leave him like that after bringing her such wonderful news - the small courtesy of not leaving him lying in the pavement was the least she could do in return.

Then, with a spring in her step, she returned to her hovel to pack her things.

*X*

Meanwhile, far, far away from the city of Vale, in a large and secluded forest, a young man was poring over a letter he had just received in the mail. It had come some time ago, and he'd stood outside simply looking at it in bewilderment.

He was completely frozen in place. As much as he tried, he couldn't move or speak. Every single limb in his body, try as he might to lift them, stayed affixed in place.

"Jaune? Are you okay?" a voice queried from within the small cottage the youth called home.

No, no he wasn't okay. He was _ecstatic._ He was the happiest he had ever been in all of the 17 years he had even been _alive!_

He hadn't honestly believed that the fake transcripts he'd included with his application would pull through, but they _had_ and he - he was going to _Beacon!_

He was pretty much too giddy to speak.

"Jaune…?" his mother asked again, this time evidently much more concerned.

Should he show it to her? What - what if this was some kind of mistake, and he ended up not getting admitted after all, and disappointing her? What if she found out that the transcripts he'd included with his admission were fake?

No. No, he was not going to doubt himself. Not this time. If the worst was going to happen, it was going to happen and he was going to go back home and he was going to face the consequences as they came.

 _Now is the time for celebration,_ he convinced himself.

"Mom… Uh, I have something to show you." he eventually sputtered out.

The blonde woman leaning on the doorframe took one look at the letter her son carried, and her blue eyes widened.

She stepped forward, and then crushed him with a hug.

"Oh my goodness, Jaune! I'm so _proud_ of you!"

"Th - Thank you, mom…" Jaune gasped, his ribs struggling to fight against his mother's affection.

"I - I never thought you would _make it,_ Jaune! Oh, wow - just wait 'til your father hears about this!" she cooed, only tightening her vice grip around the boy's ribcage. It seemed he would be going to Beacon with a bruise around his midriff.

Hearing that she thought he wouldn't make it would have hurt his confidence more if he didn't… Well - agree with her: he really shouldn't have been admitted to Beacon. He was happy, excited, and breathless (and not just from the lung-crunching display of motherly love) but…

Deep within him, past all the euphoria, he felt hollow.

His mother practically carted him back into the house, through the hallway lined with the portraits of his ancestors and the heirlooms of his family, and into the bustling kitchen in which the boy's rather large family was crammed.

Seven curious faces flicked over to him as he was dragged through the door frame by his smiling mother.

"Guess what, everyone?" she asked.

Everyone remained completely silent around the table. No one so much as flinched at the prospect of something big, new, or exciting happening, not that he could blame them. After all, this was out in the boonies - nothing interesting ever happened here, and when his mother had "big news" it was almost never anything actually exciting.

His mother's eyebrow twitched.

"Jaune-y here has been accepted to Beacon Academy!"

The room grew completely still - it was like a gunshot had just been fired from outside. Each of his sisters sat with their own kind of blank expression on their faces.

And then, the spell broke. His siblings were all over him, clawing at him for his attention and answers to their questions.

"Wow! What do you think the students will be like?" one questioned, their eyes wide.

"Well, I think they'll be, um… Great!" Jaune replied. Jeez, he sounded so damn awkward.

 _Yeah, they'll be great, alright._ Jaune's inhibitions heckled, _after all, they actually_ earned _their place in Beacon._

"I heard the Invincible Girl wanted to go! Do you think you could tell me all about her?" another asked.

"Well, uh - sure!" he responded, scratching the back of his neck. Was it bad that he had no real idea who she was talking about?

"Are you gonna stay in touch, Jaune?" an elder sister nudged up to him, grinning.

"Hopefully, yeah."

Sadly, he couldn't make any promises with that one. He had no idea how busy life at Beacon would make him, and

"How'd you do it, Jaune?" asked Belle, his youngest sister, "How'd you get in?"

Jaune's breath caught. How was he supposed to answer that question when he had no idea about the reason himself?

"I was - uh - just honest on my application, I guess," he lied, "I mean, maybe they were impressed by my desire to become a real hero?"

Maybe they were. That would be a comforting thought. It was one of the few things he hadn't lied about on his admission.

But, he surely couldn't be the only one at Beacon who wanted to be a hero. People like him were probably a dime a dozen, and to think otherwise was dumb. He hadn't been all that articulate about his dream, either - there was _nothing_ special about him, as far as the Beacon staff should've seen from his transcripts.

Somehow, Jaune doubted that meeting them would change that.

*X*

It was the day before Beacon's floodgates opened to a river of glory-seeking teenagers, and Torchwick had been forced to a meeting at the crack of dawn with the rest of the Beacon staff.

And they'd been exactly as dreadful as he'd imagined.

Goodwitch was uptight and annoying, but she was at the very least easy to irritate, and could be used for cheap laughs whenever Torchwick so desired. Ozpin was cryptic, and terrified him, but he was seemingly sane, and, as much as Torchwick hated to admit it, pretty entertaining.

But the people who sat around the table from him as he'd strode his way into the conference room could only be described as… _obnoxious._

There was something in the way they moved, and talked, and looked. Something almost cartoonishly zesty and energetic that made Torchwick immediately disgusted. It was almost like they were too perky and too jolly to be actual human beings - more like posters than people.

And Torchwick loathed it.

When he came into the room, their eyes all shifted to him, and it seemed they wanted to be _friends._

"Greetings, new blood! I'm afraid I have yet to catch your name, " one of them boomed. His voice bored into his ears, and the pain made him wince.

This one was dressed in a double breasted suit that looked to be locked in a never ending battle with his stomach for supremacy. It made him look like he was about to suddenly burst like a balloon at any given moment, and his rosy cheeks only added to the effect. His eyes and mouth were covered completely by an explosive set of facial hair, which only made him look more unkempt and incompetent.

Torchwick reluctantly crumpled when he felt Ozpin's stare shift to him from the head of the table.

"Torchwick. Roman Torchwick." Torchwick murmured.

"Wonderful to meet you, Roman!" Torchwick cringed at the man's casual use of his first name, "The name's Peter Port, Huntsman extraordinaire and master ladykiller!"

He then extended his vile, bloated hand towards him.

Torchwick could still feel Ozpin's eyes on him, like twin spotlights.

He hesitantly held out his hand in turn, which the buffoon then seized and shook. Torchwick's arm protested the entire way through, and as soon as they were done he withdrew it instantly in revulsion.

The gesture sailed right over his head - they had no clue how little Torchwick wanted to associate with them. Instead, they clasped their gigantic, troglodytic hand around Roman's shoulder, and _laughed._

"I can tell that this will be the start of a _wonderful_ relationship, Roman my boy!" they reared their head back, chuckling loudly.

With each breath they drew, Torchwick could feel the newly-formed pit in his stomach begin to widen.

At the very least, Ozpin was no longer staring at him.

"Go easy on the poor boy, Peter - you look like you're about to kill him!" a new voice laughed from further up the table.

The ape let go of him, instead choosing to laugh about something else with the one who'd distracted them.

The other one was much thinner, and looked younger. He wore a pair of spectacles that obscured his eyes, and had a mad-looking grin affixed to their face. His hair seemed to be trying to escape his head (not that Torchwick could blame it), from the insane directions it bursted forth from his scalp in. He was wearing, from what he could see above the table, a simple white shirt, and...

A bright yellow tie. Against that green hair.

Torchwick massaged his temples. The very sight of it seemed to offend his eyes, as if it were trying to gouge its way into his skull.

"Good day, Professor Torchwick! My name's Bartholomew Oobleck - you can call me, Bart, by the way - and…"

His words began to fade into silence as a ringing occupied his ears. That tie… It was completely engulfing his focus and attention.

He sat down, and before long the ape did too. Without taking his eyes off of that stupid tie.

"Alright," announced Ozpin, "Now that everyone's in their seats, we can begin."

There was a murmur of acknowledgement around the table.

"Wonderful. Glynda, would you kindly?"

The woman nodded, and then began a long tirade about the logistics of the new school year, where everybody would be allocated, the ceremony for the students graduating that year…

It all faded into a mind-numbing drone of white noise. While he was certain at least _some_ of the things she was saying were useful to him, the words she spoke would just float into his ears without any discernible meaning tied to them.

He just couldn't focus with that damnable yellow tie staring at him.

Try as he might, he could not take his eyes off of it - it was like it was taking over all of its surroundings with how loud and boisterous its colour was.

"- Torchwick?"

He slipped back into reality, to see Glynda's stern face in his center of view.

"What is it, Purple?" he asked, grinning.

"You were _asked_ a question - I would sincerely appreciate you answering it." she scolded.

She'd asked him something?

A vague hint of a triumphant smile seemed to drift across her face. It seemed she thought she'd caught him not paying attention.

Torchwick tried to drift through the nondescript minutes that had passed, his mind filled with the repulsive image of a hideous tie.

Eventually, something clicked.

"Yes, Purple, you _did_ ask me something. And, yes, I'm fine with using someone else's classroom."

The room shifted into a silence that only the clock ticking could break.

"Y-yes." Goodwitch eventually stuttered out, "Is there anyone who would be willing to let Professor Torchwick use their classroom?"

The look on her face hadn't even been there for a second, but it had been worth the effort.

"Preposterous, Ms. Goodwitch! A man's classroom is his _castle!"_ bellowed the ape, "No one should ever willingly let another man defile it!"

Glynda visibly rolled her eyes.

"How about you, Oobleck?" she asked, turning to the crazed-looking man wearing that yellow tie.

Damn it, now Torchwick was looking at it again.

"Well, I _do_ agree with Port - having another teacher use my classroom would be most uncomfortable for certain! Why, the very thought of coming into my class and finding my teaching resources meddled with is harrowing!" they said, almost in one breath, "But… It would mostly depend on what he teaches! I'd only really want someone teaching a subject that I approve of in a classroom that was originally meant to be for me, after all."

The man leaned forward animatedly as he ran his mouth and poured his extensive vocabulary across the table.

"Professor Torchwick teaches -"

"Economics." Torchwick interrupted.

The tie-wearing man flinched as if electrocuted - as did Glynda, but Torchwick wasn't paying attention to her anymore.

"Economics! By _jove!_ I've been wanting an Economics teacher for years, but Ozpin hadn't yet gotten around to it! Why, Roman, dear fellow, you have no _idea_ how wonderful this is! It's much harder to narrate complex historical developments like the SDC's eventual monopoly over all of Remnant's dust supplies thoroughly when half of the students don't even know what a _lobbyist_ is! Why, this is simply _marvelous!"_ the man exclaimed, pointing his finger into the air excitedly.

"Well, I suppose it will be helpful to have the students understand the context behind some of the examples of Remnant's monetary advancements without me having to teach it to them directly." he replied, leaning further toward the center of the table, "It would be hard explaining the value of manual labour without them understanding Faunus slavery."

Roman was lacing his words with a dangerous poison - false enthusiasm; and the man was under its influence as soon as he heard him speak. A few carefully woven compliments and he was paralysed.

"Ah, yes, always an interesting topic! The Faunus -" the man began once again. He was genuinely interested and passionate about what he was talking about, which drew his attention away from Torchwick slowly inching further across the table.

Right towards his hideous tie.

It happened faster than the man could even speak.

His tie was whisked away from him, as if blown away by a sudden but violent gust. It was there one moment, and then gone the next.

The room fell silent as Roman's nimble hand stuffed the tie into his back pocket. He was without doubt going to be throwing that in the nearest bin he could once this dull meeting was over with.

"P-Professor Torchwick! W-why would you do such a thing!? Why, this kind of behaviour is simply inappropriate for someone who deems themselves a teacher of -"

Torchwick cut him off before his verbal diarrhoea could flood the room.

"Because, _Colour Clash,_ that tie looked horrible on you." Roman said, enjoying the aghast look on the man's face.

"W-what? That's ridiculous, professor, that tie looked _fantastic_ on me! Surely all of the rest of the faculty will agree - they were _fully supportive_ of me when I first got it! Isn't that right, everyone?"

Glynda's eyes darted to the nearby wall as she bit her thumb nervously. Ozpin fidgeted with his coffee mug. The ape simply coughed awkwardly into his hands.

The man's face fell.

"Dear… Dear gods, did it _really_ look that terrible?"

No one was willing to so much as meet his eyes or reply properly, so Torchwick decided to do the honours himself.

"Yes. It was so horrible that I couldn't even focus on the meeting - I mean, did _no one_ tell you that green and yellow is a horrible look, and those two colours should never, _ever_ be seen in each other's presence?" he chided.

A realisation dawned upon Oobleck's visage.

"My… My goodness - I shall rectify this _immediately!"_ they shouted, before a green lightning bolt struck the door, and the man was gone.

Torchwick tutted. He'd hoped the man would be angrier.

"I _knew_ hiring you was a good idea." murmured Ozpin, "Anyways, we should probably get back to the meeting without Oobleck. He'll be back before long."

*X*

The scenery melted into a blur of colours and sound as Oobleck flashed through the streets of Vale.

He couldn't believe, in retrospect, that he'd chosen that tie. The new boy was correct! He looked _horrible_ wearing it and he couldn't _believe_ that the rest of the faculty hadn't elected to tell him about it! He'd been blinded by their insincere compliments, and had deluded himself into _honestly_ thinking it was a good look!

But that boy - he hadn't been too embarrassed or abashed to tell him what should have been obvious - he wasn't _scared_ of the repercussions or the potential harm to his career! No, he had boldly spoken his heart, and put the rest of the Beacon faculty to shame!

He came to a stop outside a small designer clothing shop, leaving several scared bystanders, a large dust cloud and underfoot skid marks in his wake.

That boy was already proving himself a worthy peer, and with his show of honesty had earned himself a place as one of Oobleck's friends.

The history professor swore he would make it up to him. He was going to be the best companion that that Torchwick boy could ever hope for!

Starting with allowing the new Economics teacher to use his classroom!

… Once, of course, he got himself a new tie.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N : I apologise for the low amounts I've been replying to you readers - I just couldn't think of anything to say last time. I've given it some thought now, so now I'll reply to all of them (well, the ones that I _can_ reply to):**

 **Bomberguy789: Cinder does have the White Fang at her disposal - she probably _will_ be able to get stuff done, just not as well as with Roman. Now, will they be _as good at it?_ How will they go about it? For that, you'll have to wait and see. There will only (at least, as far as I have planned) be one single important OC in this entire story - and they won't have any effect on the main plot. I know about Torchwick's racist-ness, and I _do_ plan to include some stuff about it, but it definitely isn't major, and certainly not as bad as someone like Cardin's. It will probably disappear as the plot progresses.**

 **It's red, by the way.**

 **TheSetupMage: Perhaps Torchwick _does_ mean a little bit more. I read this in a restaurant queue, and my family were startled when I suddenly burst out into peals of laughter. Needless to say, I massively appreciate the praise. I'll have to think of a much more lyrical and rhythmic way to reply to this in due time.**

 **And, to everyone else leaving praise on this story: Thanks! It's great to see how much people seem to be liking this. I plan to continue it for a pretty long while.**

 **That said, I'm currently struggling to write new chapters as quickly as I was able to before, so I _might_ not be able to always upload this Wednesday. Sorry in advance if I can't.**

* * *

 **Chapter** **6**

Torchwick straightened out his suit.

The airships were finally beginning to touch down, and within them lay the very bane of his existence: young huntsmen and huntresses. He could already feel the migraine beginning to sprout in the back of his head.

Of course, if this was out in the big bad world he'd have had the benefit of watching them die in droves after cheating them of their hard-earned lien, but in Beacon they were protected. This was a fairy-tale dreamland in which their self sacrificing nature and scruples would be protected, and allowed to fester.

Ozpin had asked him soon after the end of that meeting to simply watch over the new first years as they came in from the airships. Needless to say, he wasn't about to directly disobey him; not if he wanted his head firmly away from a guillotine - even if he'd have rather dangled from a noose than have to bother with troublesome teens.

So, he'd resolved to avoid them as much as possible.

A gust blew from the edge of the courtyard, where no doubt the first airships were about to arrive.

Torchwick peeked out from behind his arboreal hiding place. There it was - a fully functional Atlas T-11 airship; although not as fast or covert as the more recent T-13 or even close to as heavily fortified as a B-type, it was cheap and served its purpose. Said purpose being transporting the hell that it kept within.

Soon, a bridge drew out of the side of the airship, and the belly of the beast opened with a pneumatic hiss.

Torchwick casually leaned against the nearest tree, out of their sight and safe from their company.

The sound of voices and scent of sweat filled the normally peaceful Beacon air. Torchwick sighed. As much as he'd hated being stuck here, the atmosphere at the very least had been nice. Now, that sole comfort was taken away from him.

He shifted to the other side of the tree for a better view. While he wasn't as well-hidden as he'd have liked, he doubted that people would be checking for an unwanted audience at Beacon of all places - they were for the most part preoccupied with each other's company.

Torchwick rolled his eyes. Of course they wouldn't take a moment to appreciate how spectacular the buildings were.

His eyes drifted across the crowd of people, taking in each person's style and mannerisms. They were predominantly nervous; the vast majority hung back, awaiting friends or simply trying to avoid getting crushed in the crowd of people.

A cackle broke the drone of normal conversation, from somewhere across the courtyard. Torchwick's eyes darted to the figure, revealing a well-endowed redhead dressed in a pink skirt, black vest, and sleeveless white top. She seemed to pulse with enthusiasm with every breath she took; her voice seemed to cause the earth to shake, and the sound painfully clattered around his skull all the while. The smile fixed to her face seemed to have been gouged there; despite how hideous it was, it seemed to be a permanent fixture.

"Oh, you're so _silly,_ Renny! You of all people should _know_ it's not like that!"

Positivity seeped from every pore of her skin, and soaked the surrounding area. Just another annoyingly upbeat girl - the likes of which were a dime a dozen.

 _Nora Valkyrie, Age 17._

"Okay, Nora, I believe you."

Trailing behind her, as her insane wall of laughter shattered into random nattering, was a plain-looking boy dressed in green. The only notable part of his entire decor was the tiny pink highlight in his hair - and even that seemed dwarfed before the vibrant girl that dragged him around. He simply remained silent and complacent with the girl's behaviour - unassertive and uninteresting.

 _Lie Ren, Age 17._

Had the girl not been laughing so damn loudly, they probably wouldn't have attracted his attention in the first place - there was still nothing too interesting about them from his first observations.

His eyes darted across the crowd for someone more noteworthy.

A girl with a collapsible staff? Dull.

Fire sword boy? Nope.

His eyes drifted over to a girl in solitude, surrounded by an awkward ring of others all looking to her wistfully but choosing, for whatever reason, to not approach. The girl herself had scarlet hair that hung to her waist in a ponytail and adorned a circlet above her ears.

 _Pyrrha Nikos, Age 17._

She was calm and composed - Torchwick could tell that much even from this distance; from the way she carried herself to the way she avoided everyone else's glances and set her eyes forward.

She looked like a one-note enough person to be a champion. Disciplined, scrupulous, and nothing else. It was safe to say that a single look was all Torchwick needed to know he wouldn't get any sort of entertainment from her without effort: she wouldn't have any immediately exploitable personal issues or flaws for him to take advantage of.

While it wasn't unusual for her type to come packaged with a number of insecurities, they kept them firmly bottled up - far out of reach of those like Torchwick.

He tried to look for someone else of _actual_ interest among the crowds.

A cloud of dust rushed past him as a particularly large clique of youths dashed their way down the pathway to the main building. They were chatting animatedly, throwing their arms in the air and whooping - probably as a celebration.

Yet another dull group of friends who'd managed to make it to their dream school. The only thing that prevented him from returning his attention to the river of other students was a small flash of gold among the silt.

Standing within this group was a girl with long wild hair and a radiant smile. She was happily chatting away, making terrible jokes and occasionally slapping one of her friends on the back.

Torchwick smirked.

 _Yang Xiao-Long, Age 17._

Her behaviour hadn't been anything too surprising from what he'd just seen. She seemed to be sociable and jolly. Hopefully, this concealed the kind of insanity Junior had been complaining about: a smiling girl standing over the remains of the nightclub she'd destroyed, a being of unbridled violence and rage - a juvenile delinquent.

She'd looked like the perfect agent of chaos on paper, and now she was before him in the flesh.

All he needed to do was light the fuse and wait until this explosive girl detonated.

His mind was spinning; filled with images of unbridled pandemonium.

The only reservation he had was her potentially damaging the buildings - they were lovely, and the thought of seeing them smashed tugged at his heartstrings. In the end, however, the potential benefits would likely outweigh the costs.

Eventually, the stream of youths died down to a slow trickle.

Torchwick took another look around the area. It seemed the vast majority of students had emptied out of the courtyard and were now in the building; which was all the better for him. The area was returning to its usual serenity, and his task for the day was nearly over.

And then the eardrum-rending sound of an explosion ripped through the surrounding air, causing the ground to shake. The startled cries of birds resounded throughout the courtyard as they flew from their nests in terror. Torchwick shot to his feet.

Where the hell had _that_ come from?

His ears caught a small _whoosh_ as something flew through the air and clinked against his shoe.

He looked down at the earth beneath him, revealing that that something was a small glass vial filled with red powder and the image of a snowflake on the front. The emblem of the Schnee Dust Corporation.

 _Schnee brand red dust._

Torchwick merely dusted himself off, got to his feet and held the vial to the sun.

The light shone through cleanly, diffracting the rays between each miniscule crystal within - causing each of them to glint, creating an effect almost like a field of stars onset against a deep red galaxy.

This was the good stuff, for certain.

He swiftly pocketed the vial. It was evidently very high quality, and Melodic Cudgel could always use more ammo.

A loud explosion of unknown origin leading into a flying vial of red dust landing at his feet? The two events weren't a coincidence, and they certainly painted an entertaining picture, but Torchwick wasn't interested.

He'd only been asked to _watch over_ the new first years. Whatever had just happened, it wasn't his problem.

" _Unbelievable!"_ a shrill voice shrieked from behind the tree he was hiding at.

He leaned around the tree slightly.

Standing in an area somewhat far behind him was a girl dressed all in white. Her hair, too, was white, as was her complexion.

 _The mark of a Schnee._

She was complaining to someone he couldn't see from his current vantage point; protected from his prying eyes by a leafy shield, and he wasn't about to lean out and potentially give himself away to the uncomfortably close heiress.

… Yikes, was her voice annoying. Every word she chose was overly formal, as if instead of some random student she was actually talking to a board of investors. He rolled his eyes; her shrill pitch was irritating at best and soberingly painful at worst.

Why did she even have to _be_ here? Couldn't she just have cosied up in her no doubt luxurious mansion in Atlas?

The last thing he wanted now was to be caught in her line of fire; he'd just stick behind this tree for now, and hopefully neither of them would notice him.

It had been working thus far, after all.

"Hey, I said I was sorry, princess!" the other voice snapped from behind him.

"... Oh, and what are you doing _now?_ Are you just going to walk away?" the uptight Schnee replied.

"I'm going to get that vial that blew out of _your_ hands!" the other voice retorted.

 _Uh-oh._

Torchwick clasped his hands around the vial still inside his pocket, and an irritating scenario played out within his head - one that involved a rich, white-haired girl accusing him of theft. While not impossible to weasel his way out of, it would certainly be a massive inconvenience. Plus, he wanted to avoid the Schnee as much as he possibly could.

How was he going to get out of _this_ one? There wasn't enough time to run without being noticed now.

Perhaps he could just hand it back to them, and avoid any actual form of confrontation? That seemed like the best option to him - anything else would be met with too much suspicion. Then he could simply walk away and not have to put up with the Schnee too much.

Soft footfalls were now audible in the nearby grass. He pulled the dust out of his pocket.

"Are you two looking for _this,_ perchance?" he commented, stepping out from his former cover.

He immediately regretted it.

Staring directly up at him were a wide pair of silver eyes, attached to the very same face and red-skirt wearing body that he had seen at the beginning of the week. The very same day that he had landed himself in jail.

 _What,_ he wondered, _is_ she _doing here?_

"Y-you!" cried Little Red, instantly reaching for the weapon holstered at her side.

Behind her, the Schnee girl stood with an eyebrow raised, which soon developed into open-mouthed shock as with a twist of machinery the girl in front of her was holding a massive, weaponized scythe.

She disappeared into a flash of rose petals as she went for a strike to the forehead that would've knocked Roman unconscious had Melodic Cudgel not moved quickly enough. The clash of metal against metal rang out, and the girl was sent flying back from the impact.

He turned around, adopting his signature battle-smirk.

"My, my, Little Red, is that any way to -"

He winced as a shot from her rifle skimmed past his hair.

"... Greet an old friend?" he finished, brows furrowing.

Her scythe flicked towards his arm, and he rolled underneath it delicately. He got to his feet, and looked around him, ignoring the frozen Schnee. Ah, she was above him. He sidestepped, as a gust rushed from where the red-hooded girl descended and struck the ground, sending soil flying across the grass. Torchwick hoped he hadn't gotten any on his suit.

The girl was quick, that much was obvious. But she lacked strength - her scythe was heavy enough to deal a painful bow provided it landed, but it wasn't enough to make up for how frail she was. Not to mention, from her delicate frame, it was obvious a clean blow to the back of the head would knock her senseless.

He stepped forward confidently. She backed off carefully, not letting her silver eyes leave his dark-green ones. He winked, held his hand outwards, and beckoned her nearer.

Little Red quickly took the bait.

Tensing her knees, she jumped forwards, and brought around her scythe in an arc that would undoubtedly meet his neck. He took a bow, expecting a rush of steel as it passed right over his head.

Instead, she aimed the scythe towards him and fired a round at his head.

Torchwick looked up, to see a dust round suspended in midair, held in place by a spinning black glyph. The glyph disappeared, and the bullet dropped to the ground at Torchwick's feet.

So, that was the Schnee family semblance, was it?

"Took you long enough to do that, Snow White." he muttered quietly.

"What on _earth_ is supposed to be happening here?" the girl's eyebrow was twitching, and a look like thunder was plastered upon her exemplary face.

Little Red motioned to say something, but Torchwick quickly cut her off. He couldn't have her saying anything too revealing in front of the Schnee girl - the less people knew Torchwick was a criminal, the better.

"Why, I was just trying to return a container of Schnee dust that had landed at my feet," Torchwick lied, "But suddenly _Red_ here came up and attacked me!"

A flick of the wrist, and the dust flew into the fumbling hands of the Schnee girl.

"I-it's not true! He's lying! He's a thief who steals dust and he somehow snuck his way into Beacon!" pouted Little Red, her lack of articulation revealing her childish frustration.

The Schnee girl looked from one face, to another. One confident and 'genuine', and the other hesitant and childish. She was mature, and she was responsible - such was the way of the Schnee. It was all too obvious who she would side with.

Little Red's face fell as Snow White pointed the tip of her rapier towards her. Torchwick felt his grin widen.

"Look, I have no idea what's going on between you and this man," she stated, "But I don't want it interfering with my career as a Huntress. Stand down, or face the consequences."

"B-but he's a thief! I saw him attempt to steal dust with my own eyes!"

Snow White was now standing directly between him and Little Red.

"Do you mean _this?"_ the girl held up the small glass container of red dust Torchwick had tossed to her earlier.

"No! I mean, the dust store that was just robbed six days ago!"

Red ruffled her hair in annoyance, clearly frustrated. Torchwick didn't feel sorry for her - this was simply her fault for causing a scene. Plus, she'd gone and attacked a member of Beacon's faculty unprovoked; she had clearly brought this upon herself.

" _Which_ dust store robbery? I haven't heard of such a thing at all." Snow White retorted coldly.

Oh yeah, that whole fiasco hadn't actually made it to the papers. Ozpin had made sure of that. Poor Red - it looked like her heroic exploits were going to go unnoticed! How _very_ unfortunate.

"He attacked a small store called Dust till Dawn, and -" she sputtered, before shaking her head, "Oh, this is hopeless…"

She suddenly dashed forward, weapon raised, determination flashing silver in her eyes and a storm of rose petals emerging in her wake. Torchwick raised his eyebrows. Was she seriously going to attack Snow White, an innocent student at Beacon, in order to get to him?

Had he underestimated Little Red?

The trail of rose petals grew closer still to the Schnee, and she remained completely steadfast. In the milliseconds that followed, she raised her blade, and set her weight on her backward foot, poised to parry the oncoming strike.

Only to watch Red sidestep her completely, and then resume her charge - this time straight toward Torchwick. His grin only widened as her determined face grew ever more steely and the gap between them grew smaller.

A glowing circle appeared on the ground and a wall of ice sprouted between them, cutting off Little Red's little assault.

"I'm afraid that if you want to attack him, you'll have to prove that he's really what you claim," the Schnee gloated, "And until you can, I won't stand idly by and let you harm an innocent."

Little Red groaned.

"Please, just _trust me!"_ she pleaded.

A _whoosh_ of the grass and a flurry of rose petals emerged from behind the glacial barrier, only to be cut off once more.

Torchwick was practically giddy.

The two were now occupied enough with each other for him to escape covertly. He whistled casually, and began to walk his way to the initiation ceremony as more walls of ice rose upwards behind him against a backdrop of blades clashing.

*X*

Glynda wasn't used to not _entirely_ trusting Ozpin. It was a strange and novel feeling, seeing the man you had followed and looked up to for almost the entirety of your adult life suddenly commit a series of crimes in order to achieve, seemingly, nothing.

It just seemed so… Irresponsible. Outside, there were the promising next generation of huntsmen and huntresses about to receive their first tests, with images of the heroic and noble professionals teaching them emblazoned within their minds.

 _Their expectations would be dashed_ _if they knew the kind of man who will soon be teaching them Economics._

Of course, the vast majority of them would have no idea who Roman Torchwick was. To the average person in Vale, Roman Torchwick was a nobody - appearing in the papers perhaps once in every three years, far from the front page, and then disappearing almost immediately.

He was careful. Almost scarily so - his tracks were covered so thoroughly the general population wouldn't even know the path he'd walked if he'd travelled straight through their homes.

But… To anyone well acquainted with the criminal underground of Vale, the name Roman Torchwick was known ubiquitously. In the wrong hands, his name could very well mean death. It never spread into public knowledge because anyone who tried was silenced quickly and brutally.

As for the police? Most didn't interfere with him - perhaps their palms were too well-greased to secure a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

"You're late, Torchwick." Ozpin remarked.

Everyone in the room turned in surprise to the master thief leaning on the doorframe. Glynda internally cursed herself for failing to notice him entering - if she was unable to detect him sneaking around, that could cause problems if he was ever out to cause trouble.

"Sorry, Greenie," the criminal responded "I got stuck in a bit of traffic."

Ozpin seemed unimpressed, but his smile left nothing concrete.

"I presume this traffic is what held up Miss Schnee and Miss Rose?"

Glynda turned to the throng of students once again, and, sure enough, two girls, one with a red cloak and the other with white hair had just burst through the door and ran to join the crowd. From the way their shoulders rose and fell, they were panting heavily and their clothing was noticeably scuffed, with a few tears in the fabric. Glynda redirected her signature glare back to Torchwick.

"They _were_ the traffic, Greenie." Torchwick sniped, "Little Red over there held me up - you should really try and do behavior checks on the students you invite personally into Beacon."

Ozpin laughed heartily. A chill ran down Glynda's spine. Did he have access to information that he shouldn't have? There wasn't any way he could have - she'd seen personally to his scroll having certain limitations enforced upon it (a process which, thankfully, Ozpin supported) but there was simply no telling with someone like Torchwick.

"Very astute of you to figure that one out, Roman." Ozpin mused, voicing Glynda's thoughts all too politely, "How did you work it out?"

It was difficult to hide just how much Glynda was anticipating his answer.

"It was honestly pretty obvious, Greenie. The girl that got me in jail doesn't show up in the transcripts _you_ gave me but shows up at Beacon. From the rest of the students I've seen, there aren't any other instances of this happening. _You_ of all people wouldn't just let her _sneak in_ here…"

Glynda flinched, and Ozpin's smile twitched a little.

"... So that means she got in, but not through normal channels - much like me, and _also_ much like me, it could only have been you to let her in here: last I checked, you were the only person with enough authority to pull something like that off."

"That just about sums it up, Torchwick. _Little Red's_ name is Ruby Rose, by the way."

Ozpin stared out at the crowd one last time, before clearing his throat, and turning to face the staff.

"I think it's about time we started this ceremony. As with your spat with Miss Rose, professor," Ozpin pushed his spectacles a little further up his nose, "As your third job, I'd like you to resolve that matter yourself - I'd rather the school didn't get involved in what seems to be a personal issue."

With that, he walked out to greet the students.

Glynda couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction from the mortified look on Torchwick's face. She couldn't tell if it was from his new assignment from Ozpin or the fact that Oobleck (who now donned a tie that was red like blood) had suddenly decided to place his hand on the thief's shoulder to comfort him.

… She wasn't going to read into that too much.

*X*

The ceremony had ended, and Blake Belladonna was the first one out of the doors.

As much as she tried to hide it with her stoic expression, she was shaken to the core. It had been a minor thing, fleeting and small, but a single glimpse had been enough to freeze her in place completely.

As she'd been walking to the entrance ceremony of her dreams, she'd spotted something out of a nightmare leaning behind a tree observing the students.

Her time in the White Fang had taught her a lot about the darker side of Vale. Common black market routes, which businesses were fronts and which weren't, who to call if you needed someone dead… But, out of everything she was taught by the Vale division, one lesson stuck out above all.

 _Don't mess with Roman Torchwick._

This wasn't a lesson learnt from fear, or taught by intimidation - it was a simple fact. Any attempts to dismantle his criminal network would result in failure. It was impossibly intricate for how few records they kept, and surprisingly resilient.

The one time the White Fang had had a lead on him, they were met with resounding disappointment - the location of a major storehouse for stolen goods had been leaked to them, only for them to realise that it was a fake. Years later, they discovered that the real storehouse had been directly opposite the place they'd attacked, and its inhabitants had long since relocated.

And she had seen the same man who had engineered by far the most complex crime syndicate in Vale, if not the world, watching the students idly walk by, unaware of his presence.

And as soon as she'd seen him, she'd fled. It wasn't her place to interfere with what he was doing - she had to _avoid_ drawing attention to herself.

… Thus simply letting the man continue with whatever plans he had for the school.

She bit her lip in frustration.

Why did she have to be such a coward? She felt disgusted. She had come to an Academy for huntresses, and yet she was too concerned with herself and her own safety to apprehend a potentially dangerous criminal _right in front of her._

Just like she'd let the White Fang slowly fall into depravity, she was actively putting Beacon in jeopardy. All because she was too scared of losing everything.

She sighed, and tried to hide from her own shame in the depths of her novel.

"Uh, hello?"

She kept walking, taking no note of the voice. She couldn't afford to slow down - not while she was this jittery. She would give something away, perhaps seem too suspicious - _too_ nervous - and they might come to the wrong conclusions and -

Her breath hitched as she collided with the source of the voice, and was knocked onto her back. Her head twinged with pain as it struck the stone floor.

A slightly blurry hand was extended to her from above. She took it, and then the world reorientated itself accordingly.

As her vision came into focus, it was greeted by a nervous-looking blonde boy.

"Uh… Sorry about that." the boy rubbed the back of his head nervously, his blue orbs doing an elaborate dance to avoid making eye contact.

"It's nothing." Blake replied hurriedly.

She tried to walk past him, only to have him nervously shuffle up and then walk alongside her.

 _Why was he following her? What was he after? Had she given something away?_ Blake tried to dismiss the growing paranoia in her mind. She wasn't about to let herself see knives in every shadow - the boy was _clearly_ not a threat. A single glance to his overly lanky, jaunting and rag-tag form confirmed it instantly.

His reasons _could_ just be completely innocent. Her doubts, however, spoke otherwise. She reached for Gambol Shroud, holstered at her hip - just in case.

"Uh, the name's Jaune. I was wondering… Do you know the way to the initiation ceremony…?" he asked, hand still refusing to leave the back of his neck.

She looked into his eyes for any telltale hints of dishonesty; any flash of a hidden cunning. Looking for any ulterior motives lurking in those deep, blue pools. She couldn't see a thing. No dark secrets, no concealed conspiracies - he was being totally, completely honest.

Blake felt like an idiot. _This_ was the person who, just moments ago, she had been suspicious of? She snickered, trying to repress her own amusement behind her hand, but altogether failing.

The boy, Jaune, looked dismayed.

"What is it? What's so funny?" he asked. His hand had at last left the back of his neck, only to join his other hand in a display of frantic fidgeting.

"Well…" she pointed the way she had came, where a crowd of students were beginning to leave the hall, "It _was_ over there, but…"

His face fell even further still.

"Oh no…" he groaned, falling to his hands and knees melodramatically.

This time, Blake extended _her_ hand to the prostrated boy. He reached up and took it hesitantly.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it." Blake said, "They didn't talk about too much anyways. Just that we have to be in the ballroom tonight."

"Oh… That's good, I guess." replied tall, blonde and scraggly. "So… What's _your_ name?"

Should she give the boy her name? She looked at him once again.

The wistful look in his eyes made him look like a small, scraggly puppy. The likeness was enough to make her smile.

She supposed she could humour him.

"Blake. Blake Belladonna."

"Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue… Ladies love it."

Blake raised an eyebrow.

"Do they?"

"They will - I hope."

This boy, even if he wasn't trying to, certainly had a knack for making her laugh.

"So… What held you up that much in the first place?" she asked.

The boy stiffened, and winced.

"I saw these two huntresses - I mean, they might have been students - fighting it out, one with a huge scythe and the other with some crazy magic - and I, uh…" he looked at the ground, and resumed fidgeting, "I kind of didn't want to get caught up in it all, and decided to turn tail."

Two huntresses… Fighting? Right before the entrance ceremony? Odd, to say the very least.

Her mind flicked back to the bruised pair that had abruptly made their way into the hall, just before the headmaster began his speech. Weiss Schnee and some other girl. She'd seen them in a heated argument on her way there, but she hadn't thought it would turn _violent._

Could it have had anything to do with the ominous figure behind the tree…?

"Are… Are you okay?"

She looked down, and noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. She willed them to stop.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Seeing the look of relief on the boy's face, she couldn't help it as her smile widened just a fraction. It was a breath of fresh air to see someone who wore their heart on their sleeves for once.

She almost envied him. That type of person never had any secrets to weigh them down - which was certainly more than she could say for herself.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** **Aaaaaaah sorry about that. I was kind of in over my head with the whole Sunday/Wednesday upload schedule in the first place, but I'm as stubborn as a mule and so stuck with it. As a result, I _still_ feel guilty about messing up the Wednesday upload last week. As a show of my sincerity, please accept this extra-long chapter.**

 **Okay, now that that's out of the way, I'd just like to say thank you for the more than 100 followers! You guys are great. I'm honestly surprised at the overwhelmingly positive reception this fic has thus far received.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

The ballroom was awash with students. A number of makeshift beds lay scattered across the floor haphazardly, in which the new entrants sat fooling around, sleeping, fiddling idly with their scrolls, chatting and occasionally reading. The air was thick with sweat, the lights were dim, and the boys mostly topless. All in all, it was pretty uncomfortable for Ruby Rose.

Well, at least her sister didn't seem to hate the topless boys, from those predatory glances she shot the exposed males. Ruby _would_ ask her to stop, but she was hardly in the mood.

After all, she'd just made it to Beacon, and had thus far made absolutely _no_ friends. She'd met that white-haired girl, but…

Well, it was difficult trying to make friends with someone after you'd literally blown up in their face and then suddenly had to attack them. The look in her sky-blue eyes as she walked away in the hall still shook Ruby to the core. Ruby had to put all her might into restraining Yang when she explained she'd gotten into a fight with the ice queen - she only stopped trying to attack her when Ruby explained that it was all her own fault in the first place.

Of course, she'd also told Yang about the evil dude with the hat. It was a relief to see that she totally believed her - after all, the circumstances were… Weird, to say the least: she'd beaten a bad guy only for them to appear unrestrained in Beacon's courtyard. And, worse yet, she hadn't been able to convince anyone _other_ than her sister that she wasn't lying!

Well, she hadn't _tried_ with anyone other than Weiss, but that was beside the point.

She wanted to do something about it, but she had no idea where to start. She didn't even know the man's _name!_ Not to mention intel gathering wasn't exactly her strong suit - she wanted to fight enemies out in the open, not dig through ditches looking for them!

She looked down at the notebook she'd been writing on. It seemed it was now covered in the shambling wreckage of an off-the-rails train of thought. She ripped the page apart, and ruffled her hair in frustration.

Oh, gosh, now Yang was going to start wondering what was wrong. Ruby jerked when she felt an elbow jab into her side.

"Hey, Ruby," she whispered, voice low, "Are you seeing these boys?"

She then let out a suggestive purr. Or, at least, that's what it sounded like to Ruby.

"I see 'em, Yang," Ruby stated matter-of-factly, "But I'm trying to be a huntress, not a creep."

She yelped as Yang hit her playfully (well, painfully) with a pillow.

"What's gotten _you_ so on edge, Rubes?" she asked.

"... Nothing."

Yang's lilac eyes narrowed and bored _straight_ into her soul. Ruby crumpled.

"Okay, okay, not nothing," she corrected hastily, "It's that thief guy from before."

Yang let out a large and _very_ audible sigh.

"Rubes," she began, "I know it sucks that he got away, but now's not the time to worry about it. I'm sure the staff at Beacon have got this!"

"If they really had, maybe he wouldn't have gotten in here in the first place."

Yang rolled her eyes in a long, slow arc.

"Listen." she grabbed Ruby and then proceeded to follow up with a very affectionate headlock, "All I'm hearing is 'Yang, help me find something to do to take my mind off of a creepy guy that hangs out behind trees!'"

"Yeah… Like, maybe go back to writing my letter to my friends back at Signal…?" Ruby suggested, nerves slowly beginning to twitch. She knew this look in Yang's eye. It was still the same old lilac, but it burned as brightly as her hair when her semblance activated. It meant she was getting another one of her _ideas,_ which would always end up with Ruby embarrassed in front of everyone else.

The blonde's arm shot out, and before Ruby could try to roll out of the way, had already grabbed her shoulder.

"Nope!" Yang then went and shifted her grip to around her arms, preventing all hope of escape. "We need to make you some _Beacon_ friends!" Yang exclaimed.

Ruby was powerless to resist - as much as she kicked and struggled to try and break free of her sister's grasp - while Yang slowly surveyed the room around them, looking for any vulnerable folk to force her sister on.

Ruby tried to follow whoever her sister was looking at. First, her gaze settled on some random girl in black, then some boy in a onesie, _then_ it settled on…

Wait, was that Pyrrha Nikos?

Her sister yanked her around to gaze at a boy sitting alone in a corner. He was reading a book in peace, while sipping what looked to be a cup of tea. The loose-fitting, green silk pajamas he wore completed the effect - he looked completely and totally serene.

"Just _look at him,_ Ruby!" she whispered, "He looks almost as antisocial as _you!_ This is _perfect!"_

Antisocial, maybe, but discontented? Nope. Ruby pitied the guy. No one deserved to put up with Yang when she was like this; and, even worse, Yang was going to force Ruby's social awkwardness on him.

Ruby, try as she might, could not change her sister's course as she pulled her through the occasionally staring crowd toward her unfortunate victim. Before long, a pair of magenta eyes were staring calmly up at the approaching pair.

"Can I help you?" he asked. His voice was incredibly level - it was almost like he didn't even realise they were there. He sounded just as peaceful as he looked, which only made the guilt truck Ruby was being hit by hit all the harder.

"Yeah! We just thought you looked a little lonely and came over to talk to you!" Yang announced.

He hadn't looked lonely at all. Well, not that it mattered now. If Yang said he was lonely, then he was lonely and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I see."

He then went back to reading his book calmly. Yang's grin grew sharper, and that glint in her eyes only grew more dangerous. He didn't so much as flinch. There wasn't even a hint of intimidation or interest in his eyes.

Yang seemed to deflate at the sight. She sighed, and patted her hand on Ruby's shoulder in resignation.

"Ah, well, Ruby. Looks like this one's a lost cause -"

"My _gosh,_ Renny! You _horndog!"_ a voice blasted from nearby - almost knocking Ruby off of her feet. The boy then sighed, which was probably the biggest show of emotion Ruby had thus far seen out of him.

Ruby turned to the voice's source, a redhead dressed in pink.

"I can't leave you for a second or you start working away on nearby maidens with your wicked wiles!" the girl then began to shake the poor boy, who had only just been in a totally zen state.

Okay, Ruby had thought that Yang was gonna be bad for this boy? This… This was _way_ worse. Oddly enough, however, even while being shaken as if in a brutal blender, the boy remained smiling.

Ruby knew, even in the face of this overwhelming foe, that she had to help the poor boy. And, from the slightly dumbstruck look on Yang's face and her slowly backing away, it looked like she would have to do it alone.

"Uh… We j-just thought he looked sorta lonely-ish and decided to - uh - go talk to him - it's okay!" Ruby suddenly blurted out.

The girl suddenly jolted round to them, and the boy's eyes shot over to them. The girl had a gaze like lightning - that is, overly energetic and crazily unpredictable.

"We, uh, just wanted to be… Friends…?" Ruby continued.

The girl's eyes widened, and her smile began to show seemingly too many teeth - it looked like her face was about to split open like an exotic fruit. Although it really should've looked friendly, it instead looked dangerous and terrifying. Ruby could feel herself shrinking beneath it.

"Renny…" she turned to him, and the static in the air built up even further, "You made… A _friend!?"_

"Yes, Nora." 'Renny' replied. Ruby wasn't sure that he meant what he was saying, but if she were in his shoes - or, well, being crushed by the girl now squeezing him like a bear, she'd probably have gone with the flow too.

The girl, Nora, squeaked, dropped the boy on the floor, and then gave the same hug she'd just given her former victim to Yang and Ruby. All of the air was knocked out of Ruby immediately, as the girl's arms completely trapped her. All attempts to breathe were met with crushing defeat.

"Ohmigosh _Renny!_ I'm so _proud of you!"_ she squealed, "You made friends _already?_ Wow, this is going to be the _best!"_ the girl leaned in closer to the two of them, and her voice dropped to a hushed whisper, "I'd be careful, though. Renny's a real ladies' man - I have to keep him on a leash sometimes!"

Well, it wasn't much of a whisper from the way 'Renny' rolled his eyes, and some of the nearby girls backed away.

"Nora, I think you're going to suffocate them." he observed.

The girl soon dropped Ruby, before darting back guiltily upon seeing the two girls' blue faces.

"Oh wow, I'm so sorry I was just proud that Renny had finally made a friend, I didn't mean to strangle you! I swear!" she protested.

"It's… Fine…" Ruby gasped in response. Her lungs should've been filling with air properly by now. They weren't.

The black-haired boy let out a small chuckle.

"My apologies. Nora here is a little…" he turned over to the girl, who looked like she was vibrating on the spot, "Excitable. My name is Lie Ren, and this is Nora Valkyrie."

"Yang… Xiao-Long," her sister panted.

"Ruby Rose." Ruby choked, before finally the air began to flow throughout her body. She swore then and there that she was never going to take that sweet air for granted, _ever again._

On the bright side, she'd finally made a friend!

Darn it. Now she needed to think of a conversation topic. She looked to Yang, eyes pleading. This was always her older sister's territory - they were friends now, so it shouldn't have been too difficult for her to take charge again, right?

Yang, however, was refusing to say a word. Was it that she wasn't used to having her confidence and extrovertedness not only matched, but outclassed by this Nora girl? The thought was strange, and made Ruby feel uncomfortable - she promptly tossed it aside.

"So!" the redhead began, "Isn't being at Beacon just the _best!?"_

Luckily for Ruby, Nora seemed to have no end of things to talk about. She found this out quickly, and then kept finding it out, long into the night. _Long_ past the time she would normally have been sound asleep.

The only one of them who got any real rest was Ren.

*X*

"First impressions, anyone?"

Ozpin sat at the head of the table, staring out at the Beacon staff.

Glynda was sat at the chair directly beside him, as always, and glaring daggers at anyone who seemed to be slacking or not paying attention, also as always. Given that Torchwick was sat with his feet crossed on the table, the majority of these glares were directed at him. From the vacant expression on the thief's face, getting stabbed by Glynda's sharp eyes didn't affect him whatsoever.

As much as he wouldn't admit it to her face, Ozpin enjoyed seeing Glynda's authority challenged for once. Peter and Bartholomew were more or less completely at her mercy - a single glare would usually completely stop them in their tracks. While she was usually understandably gentle with Peaches, when the poor girl made serious mistakes she would grill her non-stop for them. In fact, Ozpin was pretty certain Glynda had only stopped shooting Peaches the occasional death-glare when Torchwick had arrived.

Without fear of Glynda, each of the teachers were a lot more relaxed. They wouldn't check behind their shoulders for the emerging purple-clad disciplinarian at every corner when Ozpin tried to talk to them anymore - because she was too busy trying to find Torchwick. They wouldn't end up collapsed on their desks when Glynda asked them to complete a little too much paperwork - instead, she was checking if Torchwick was up to something. Even better still, she wouldn't harass him when he was trying to drink his coffee and gaze out of his office window in peace - she was lecturing Torchwick on the other side of the building.

Whether the crime lord knew it or not, since he had arrived he had only done exactly what Ozpin had intended. He was stirring the pot, shaking things up - it had already had a profound influence on the faculty, most noticeable in Oobleck, who now regularly followed him around and tried to give him any kind of help or advice he could; much to the thief's chagrin.

Ozpin was on an incredibly satisfying winning streak and he already felt like pushing his luck. He had gotten a new teacher and an incredibly talented batch of new students - if their performances at initiation this year were anything to go by.

Each of these promising students now lay before him on his scroll, organised neatly by which relic they had managed to pick up in initiation. Of these new students, it was time to pick which students of them showed enough promise to be leaders.

"I believe Pyrrha Nikos should be the leader of the white rook pieces." Glynda stated bluntly, "She showed admirable cooperation skills, and coupled with her blatantly incredible combat capabilities she could prove an excellent candidate for the leader of her team."

Murmurs of agreement resounded across the table. Torchwick seemed determined on paying as little attention as humanly possible to the meeting - remaining silent as the grave.

Ozpin looked at his scroll, and on the glowing blue square the names and faces of the four youths who had claimed the rooks at initiation appeared.

 _Weiss Schnee, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren._

Ozpin smiled. Yes, Pyrrha Nikos would _certainly_ be a good candidate for leader. She fit the position like a glove - responsible, kind, skilled, and intelligent. She'd passed the entrance exam with record-breaking ease, and upon hearing the glowing reports of her character from chat shows, he'd decided it would be worth interviewing her himself.

He could still remember her words at the interview, down to the letter, even weeks after. It had made for an interesting interview, for certain. Unfortunately, as much as he would've liked to make the girl a team leader, he couldn't go back on the promise he'd made her during it.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Glynda."

The table fell silent, and all eyes were on Ozpin. Even, quite surprisingly, Torchwick's.

"I-if I may ask, professor…" began Peaches, who was sat in a one-person huddle at the end of the table, shoulders hunched forward and eyes firmly to the floor, "Why wouldn't we choose P-Pyrrha for the leader of her team…?"

 _Peaches_ was questioning him?

"Why, that's simple, Professor Peaches." the girl winced as he turned his gaze to her. It seemed no matter how softly he tried to act, it would still make the girl's breath catch as if struck by a pin. "If you look at the footage in initiation, the girl only ever follows the orders given to her. While on her own she can very easily achieve great things, a life spent in the coliseum makes it difficult for one to lead a group - she doesn't know what to do when in command of other people."

It was sound logic. It wasn't even the first time he had made a decision like this - most teachers would agree with him.

"Yep. I'm with Greenie on this one." Torchwick stated.

Everyone on the table turned to him. Ozpin suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow, drowning it in a calm sip of coffee. He'd not shown much enthusiasm thus far in any of their meetings - except for the time he spirited Oobleck's hideous old tie away. It felt odd to see him suddenly start not only proactively contributing, but _agreeing_ with Ozpin.

A seed of suspicion took root within him.

"I wager the Invincible Girl will make the brats feel more than a little worse about themselves - if you suddenly place her in charge then that's the kind of standard they'll start holding themselves to. Standards that they definitely won't be hitting before the end of their four year stay at Beacon." Torchwick said it so casually and calmly - as if this kind of logic came naturally to him. Given his background, Ozpin wasn't surprised - selecting leaders must have been a common process back when he was the kingpin of the criminal underground.

"Indeed! Making the Pyrrha girl too prominent among the student body would intimidate other students trying to follow her example! I wholeheartedly agree with Torchwick here!" Oobleck exclaimed, pointing his finger to the air.

"O-okay…." Peaches stuttered out, shifting her gaze from the table to the floor, "I-I suppose I'll side with you, th-then…"

"Hmph! And who do you suppose would make a good candidate for her replacement?" Port questioned, "After all, a huntress of her caliber is one in a million! I dare say a suitable replacement would be hard to find!" His chest puffed out, inflated by his preemptive sense of triumph.

"I actually already had someone in mind, Peter." Ozpin replied.

Port's chest returned to its normal size.

"And who would you say _that_ is?"

The image of four students, mere first years, courageously staring down a Deathstalker, was still clear in his mind. Of the four, one person had maintained discipline and directed the students to their eventual victory against their foe.

He could still see the girl standing over the disappearing Deathstalker with her rapier planted in its eye and her snow white hair fluttering in the wind.

"Weiss Schnee. I'm certain she has the drive to become a leader and as we saw in the initiation had managed to keep a clear head and think under pressure. She was more than able to earn the respect of her teammates and I'm certain she will become an excellent leader with time." Ozpin said.

"Good point, I suppose." hummed Port, his fingers stroking his flamboyant moustache.

"The Schnees _are_ famous for their responsibility and leadership skills." Glynda noted.

"The Schnees _aren't_ famous for treating their employees nicely." Torchwick quipped.

Glynda's glare turned from a hail of daggers to a blizzard and it was aimed much more pointedly at the thief leaning his feet on the table.

"Are you trying to say something, Roman?" Oobleck faced Torchwick, his curiosity transparent even through his completely opaque spectacles.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not entirely sure Snow White will actually become a good leader. Last I remember, the Schnees had a reputation for being stuck up and cold. Who knows how she'll treat her classmates? The last thing you want is disgruntled kids to suddenly start acting out because of how poorly their leader treats them."

"If so, Torchwick, who would _you_ suggest?" Ozpin asked.

"How about the Lie Ren kid? He seems calm and collected enough - he fought that one deathstalker without a single gripe. I'd say he has the mettle to be the leader and you won't be taking risks with his attitude."

The way Oobleck nodded and Port scratched his chin didn't bode well for Weiss Schnee's chance at becoming leader. Ozpin wasn't sure why Torchwick was being so active at the meeting, but it was more than enough to put him ever so slightly on edge. Thousands of possibilities as to why danced throughout his imagination, but none of them seemed very appealing.

One thing was certain, however: Ozpin was _not_ going to let this Lie Ren boy become the leader of that team. Not with Torchwick's reasons being so unclear.

"And who, Torchwick, was the one strategizing? _Who_ was the one who actually ended up making the plan that defeated the Deathstalker? Not Lie Ren, I can assure you. He may be able to keep a clear head when the situation demands, but that says nothing of his actual leadership skills. He could put his entire team in danger as the result of a poor decision. Your belief that Miss Schnee will be difficult for her teammates is just that - a belief. On the off chance that she really _is_ unkind to her teammates, being in the position of a leader is the best for her - that way she can learn to open up to them in ways that she wouldn't have been able to otherwise."

That was an effective blow in Ozpin's favour. Port, ever the lover of romantic changes of nature, was now nodding along in agreement. He adored the prospect of Beacon changing lives for the better and the thought of a Schnee learning to open up to people would sate this hunger. Knowing Oobleck, the potential lives at stake from making the Lie boy the leader of the team would surely sway the professor to his side. He was always one for making the logical choice when the situation demanded.

If all went well, Miss Schnee would become a leader, and grow into a fine one.

"Without further ado…" Glynda readjusted her spectacles, "All those in favour of Pyrrha Nikos becoming the leader of the white rook pieces, please raise your hand."

Not a single hand went up.

''All in favour of Lie Ren?"

Ozpin prepared himself for his oncoming victory. Peaches would no doubt follow the crowd and vote for Weiss when the situation demanded. He wagered Torchwick would be bitter about it, but it wouldn't be anything too difficult to solve.

His happy thoughts were stopped dead when two hands went up in the air, followed nervously by a third.

… What?

Torchwick, of course, had his hand in the air, but more surprisingly so did Oobleck and Peaches. Ozpin repressed the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief.

"... So," Glynda began, frowning and pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, "Since that brings those in favour of Weiss Schnee and those in favour of Lie Ren to equal numbers, we have to settle this in other ways."

"Alright… We'll flip a coin." Ozpin murmured. "If it lands on heads, we pick Weiss Schnee. If it lands on tails, we pick Lie Ren."

He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a single coin. He discreetly shot Glynda a meaningful look, and she nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement. He flicked the coin into the air, and almost smirked as the rest of the teachers watched with baited breaths.

The coin, of course, landed on heads.

"Weiss Schnee it is. So," Ozpin announced, watching as all the teachers' (except for Torchwick's) expressions turned into a grimace, "What shall we name the team?"

Every single person in the room looked away and seemed to try and shrink to become as inconspicuous as possible. Everyone, that was, other than Torchwick.

Which, simply put, placed a giant target on him.

"Do you have any suggestions, Professor Torchwick?" Ozpin asked. Peaches audibly sighed in relief, glad to know someone else was in the line of fire. He could sympathise - nobody enjoyed creating team names.

Honestly, it would've made it much easier if they'd just selected leaders based on what made the team names most convenient. But, that would've been too unprofessional even for the Beacon staff.

"Well, it's Weiss Schnee, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, and Lie Ren, right? In which case…" Torchwick sat for a moment and hummed in thought, "Team WNNR. Codenamed 'Winter'."

"I think that's taking more than a few liberties, Torchwick." scoffed Glynda, "Are you sure you can't think of anything better?"

"I'd have named them team Winner, but that would give them too many wrong ideas. I was thinking team WRNN, or Warren, for a moment - but it didn't feel in keeping with the theme. And then I just decided to roll with this. It's a shame, really - if it had been the Nikos girl I could have named them team PSVR, or Perseverance. It's one of those buzzwords huntsmen like, right? And if it was the Lie kid I could've perhaps named it RSNN - Team Reason."

In the silence that followed, a pin dropping would've been as loud as an explosion.

Everyone stared at him in disbelief. Glynda looked like she'd just seen a Beowolf sprout wings and fly off into the sunset. Usually it would take hours for someone to think of even a single team name, but Torchwick had just made them a team name in a matter of seconds, and a thematic one at that. Even worse still, he'd been able to think of multiple ones that he wouldn't even have needed!

At that moment, Ozpin decided to have Torchwick think of all current and future team names.

The rest of the teams passed uneventfully, with each team name being quickly decided by Torchwick. Glynda had to shut down a few of his suggestions, however, such as when he suggested what was now Team CRDL could be named Team CRBS, or Crabs.

Ozpin had been _very_ tempted to humour the man with that one.

And then that brought them to the very last team on the list.

 _Jaune Arc, Blake Belladonna, Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao-Long._

It was safe to say this was one of the teams that interested Ozpin the most. Taiyang's boisterous child showed great promise as a young huntress, and Blake Belladonna had more than demonstrated her capabilities in combat during initiation.

Jaune Arc hadn't shown the combat capabilities of a scion of the Arc family yet, but he _had_ demonstrated a clear tactical prowess when doing battle against a Nevermore. He still remembered the look on Glynda's face as Miss Rose was catapulted through the air and took the Nevermore's head with her. One simply didn't forget the rare occasions Glynda smiled.

Ozpin, however, already knew exactly who he wanted to become the leader of this particular team. She may have been young, but her potential was incredible - she was more than good enough to enter Beacon even at that age. Not to mention her… _other_ gift. Making that girl the leader of her team would undoubtedly help the budding Miss Rose bloom.

"I believe Miss Rose should become the leader of this team." began Ozpin.

"Miss Rose?" asked Port, his bushy eyebrow rising enough to almost give the headmaster a glimpse of his eye, "Why, isn't the girl only 15?"

"She is young, yes, but she shows great promise." Well, that was the main reason he wanted her to lead a team - but everyone at Beacon showed great promise. He couldn't simply say that and expect them to adhere to his wishes - not everyone could be Glynda, after all. "Although she has some issues interacting with others, they are largely due to her inability to approach them. Once she's _in_ a conversation, she rarely struggles to make friends. This kind of quality is greatly appreciated in a team leader, as she'll very easily be able to break any ice the team may initially have."

"And _why_ did this same line of reasoning not ever-so-conveniently apply to the Schnee?"

Ozpin turned to Torchwick. There was an unusual flame burning in his eyes - one that Ozpin had thus far not seen in the man. He'd seen a wide variety of expressions cross the man's face since he had been brought to Beacon, but this was certainly new.

He looked _determined._

"Because Miss Schnee has undoubtedly led _before._ Every single person who claimed the white knight pieces is a novice. As a result, simple, minor things like how amiable you are become much, much more important."

"If that was the case, why not go for the blonde girl? She seems _more_ than sociable enough."

"Miss Xiao-Long didn't show a hint of her ability to think and plan during their brief battle with the Nevermore, merely following the orders given to her. While they are important in a novice leader, how sociable you are isn't the only quality you need to meet the position's demands."

Torchwick's eyes narrowed.

"Neither did Little Red. As a matter of fact, both of them _and_ the Belladonna girl were following the orders of Jaune Arc. Of the four, I'd say he's the one who's shown that they actually have the skills to lead."

"How much Miss Rose thinks and plans is evident in the way she fights, Professor."

"The way you fight is less compelling evidence than the strategies you make up in the thick of the moment, Greenie. You of all people should know this - it's almost like you've chosen to forget it."

The atmosphere in the room took a turn for the tense.

"Just _what,_ may I ask, are you suggesting here?" asked Ozpin.

"So, you let this Rose girl in all of a sudden, without any kind of application process, and now you're pushing for her to become a leader when there's clearly better candidates.'' he paused, and as a look slowly began to take over Oobleck and Port's faces (Peaches was simply looking more and more terrified), smirked, "I don't know, Greenie, but it seems to me like Little Red is receiving undue favouritism."

A counter-argument quickly sprung into Ozpin's mind, before it dawned on him. Yes, he could _very_ easily say that the girl had proven herself upon beating a number of criminals trying to rob a dust store late at night. But, if _that_ was brought up…

Well, just where, how and why would be brought up too. And with research, they would find out that the apprehending of criminals he accredited to Miss Rose had _never happened._ Ozpin himself had made sure of it. Something like that would undoubtedly look suspicious on his part, and would only further Torchwick's line of argument.

If they looked _very_ far into it, they might discover how Torchwick had been the one orchestrating the robbery to begin with. And, if all of the faculty knew that Torchwick was a former wanted criminal (despite the records now saying that he was once a banker and nothing more) that would no doubt cause no end of problems for Ozpin.

Torchwick had actually trounced him. All of the years of experience and wisdom Ozpin had accumulated had just been bypassed by a twenty-eight year old criminal. He'd been too comfortable in his position and had rested on his laurels and now _this_ was the price he had to pay.

"Professor Torchwick, I would recommend you refrain from making such baseless accusations in the future." snapped Glynda. Ozpin supposed she deserved points for trying, but her harshness was lost on Torchwick.

"Well," coughed Port awkwardly, "Oz _did_ have a close relationship with Taiyang…"

Glynda looked aghast.

"Port!" the accusatory tone in her voice was painful, almost making Ozpin wince. The effect it had on Port was seemingly much worse.

"You can't deny it, Miss Goodwitch - Roman _does_ have a point. It _is_ strange that Professor Ozpin is so determined to make Miss Rose succeed against all odds." stated Oobleck, his normally lively voice laced with unusual seriousness.

Oobleck's face fell at Glynda's horrified expression.

The room was quickly filled with the sound of bickering between Glynda and her two unfortunate targets, while Torchwick simply sat at the end of the table smirking triumphantly. In his eyes was a gleam of pure, unabated glee.

"Who would you suggest as an alternative to Miss Rose, then, Professor Torchwick?" asked Ozpin, finally silencing the squabbling.

"I'm glad you asked, Greenie. I'd like to suggest Jaune Arc. He's demonstrated clear strategic talent when figuring out a way to down that Nevermore, and as for his ability to forge friendships… Well, I think we can all say we saw how he met his partner." Torchwick stated, savouring each point he brought up like he was hammering nails into Ozpin's coffin, "By all accounts, they didn't have any idea who the other was until yesterday. Despite this, he made enough of an impression for her to go out of her way to make him her partner. I think that speaks a lot for his ability to make friends."

Before long, Oobleck and Port were nodding along. Peaches was fidgeting as nervously as ever. Glynda was glaring at him with such power that Ozpin wondered if she was trying to burn a hole in the man's chest.

"All right," Glynda began, once Torchwick had concluded his line of reasoning, "I suppose we should conclude this. All those in favour of Jaune Arc becoming the leader of the White Knight team, please raise your hands."

Three hands - Torchwick's, Port's and Oobleck's - were soon in the air.

Ozpin turned to Peaches, a glimmer of hope slowly reemerging. If she voted for Miss Rose, then he could simply rig another coin flip and make her the leader!

Ozpin's smile returned. It wasn't over yet.

"All those in favour of Miss Rose," Glynda said, her voice having gained a hint of optimism, "Please raise your hands."

Two hands went up in the air. Everyone in the room, excluding Torchwick, turned to Peaches.

"I-I'm sorry… I d-don't know who to choose - I mean, I d-don't actually think Ozpin would d-d-do something like that normally." she stuttered, quivering like a leaf with everyone staring at her, "B-But I still think Professor T-Torchwick has a point… Jaune d-does seem like the better choice… But Ozpin is usually so perceptive with this kind of thing - I d-don't think he'd choose Miss Rose for no reason..."

There was still hope. Ozpin had to stop himself from instinctively crying out with joy.

 _Come on, Peaches,_ he thought, _who was it that didn't fire you when you messed up with those transcripts?_

"Professor Peaches."

She shifted her shaking gaze to the red tie wearing man opposite her.

"Y-yes, D-Doctor Oobleck?"

"Jaune Arc is, I can absolutely assure you, the best candidate for the leader of the White Knights." Oobleck assured, "While, yes, Ozpin normally does have excellent judgement, he's not always correct. He might just be wrong here. I don't honestly believe Ozpin is giving Miss Rose an unfair advantage as Roman claims; nor do you have to."

Oobleck leaned forward and looked her straight in the eyes.

At which point she started hesitantly trying, and repeatedly failing, to make eye contact as a blush bloomed across her face from ear to ear. From the movement of her upper body, it was clear that her legs were shifting slightly underneath the table.

"So, who will you pick?" Oobleck finished.

"I-I'll vote for Jaune Arc." she said, a small smile forming on her face as she began to twiddle her fingers.

Glynda's face was buried in her palm.

"That makes it four to two." she sighed, "Jaune Arc is now the leader of the White Knight team."

"I think this meeting will be adjourned here. The team name can wait." Ozpin announced. Glynda looked at him curiously, mostly because his signature smile had suddenly returned.

The teachers got up from their seats, and each left the room. Oobleck vanished in an instant, and Port leapt out of the room with great strides. Peaches shuffled nervously out of the door, the red in her cheeks and slight smile on her face refusing to move away. Glynda left the room, and closed the door behind her in Torchwick's face, which earned a slight growl from the thief.

The thief was stopped from finally leaving, however, when Ozpin called him back.

"What do you want, Greenie?" he asked.

" _I_ don't want anything. As a matter of fact, I was about to say that I've decided to take the matter of dealing with you and Miss Rose's patchy relationship into my own hands."

Torchwick frowned.

"Why, may I ask?"

"Because, Torchwick, you have not only met, but _exceeded_ all of my expectations." Ozpin's smile widened to a grin, "It takes a lot to get the better of me. You're merely receiving recognition for it."

Torchwick's grin faded very slightly. Perhaps he was upset that Ozpin had, instead of getting irritated or angry, become happier over his attempts to humiliate him.

"By the way," Ozpin continued, "You can name Mr. Arc's team in your own time. Just send me the name you've decided on in time for the ceremony tomorrow."

Ozpin then turned, and left down the corridor to his office. He still had yet to regret hiring Torchwick, and with every passing day it seemed like a better choice. He'd impressed Ozpin in a number of ways, ones that he tried to hide that Ozpin was perceptive enough to see anyway; now, with a display of talents like the one in that meeting, Ozpin was determined.

He was going to get Torchwick on his side. It would take time, certainly, but it would be worth every modicum of effort he put in.

 _Now,_ he thought, _what shall I do about Miss Rose…?_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Back on schedule, kind of at the cost of this chapter's length. As for the reviews; again, thanks! I _do_ have a few person specific responses this time, though:**

 **DelkinBC: You mentioned there being one other fic that does this well. If I may ask, which is it? It could be really helpful for reference material as, while I've got a pretty solid idea of where I'm going in mind, there are a few character kinks that I want to iron out.**

 **Bomberguy: I'm trying not to give the impression that Blake is just taking Pyrrha's place in Jaune's character arc, because she just... wouldn't. It wouldn't really work at all - Pyrrha and Blake are too different for them to do all of the same stuff (outside of necessities). Other than that, yes to pretty much everything in your review.**

 **Engineer: Your question shall be answered in this very chapter.**

 **Chapter 8**

Torchwick laid down on one his room's various sofas, staring up at the ornate and mesmerizingly beautiful ceiling.

He could hardly contain his excitement. He'd _done it!_ He'd _actually managed_ to make that Arc kid the leader of his team! His plan had worked better than he could even have possibly imagined - he'd finally, _finally_ managed to one up Greenie. It was safe to say Torchwick was completely elated.

He'd initially thought that Arc had gotten cold feet and backed out, as soon as he didn't see a blonde, scruffy mop among the sea of heads at the welcoming ceremony. He'd always had his doubts about the boy actually showing up - most people were more than a little afraid at the moment of their first crime going to plan - but he had, and things had turned out better than Torchwick could have ever imagined.

It had been real difficult to suppress his joy when he saw the boy launched into the forest. He'd been giddy, on the edge of his seat, awaiting the moment when the boy - likely a civilian - ended up horribly dying, alone in the dark and unforgiving Emerald Forest.

He'd been disappointed at first when the kid, with the aid of a few other students, managed to cling to his life even in a forest infested with Grimm ready to tear it from his hands - there was a poetic beauty to a wannabe huntsman cheating his way into Beacon and then immediately dying; one he had wanted to appreciate as it happened live on camera.

The decision to try and make him the team leader was admittedly pretty spur of the moment. Torchwick _had_ been planning on him biting the dust in initiation, after all.

Looking back on it now, however, Torchwick was glad the boy was still alive. If the kid hadn't survived, he may not have experienced the immense satisfaction he'd gotten from finally seeing Ozpin, who before had worn an indomitable smile, with his head in his hands in complete shock.

Which is why it was all the stranger that the man had suddenly changed tune later on. He'd gone from stunned to smiling with a shark-toothed grin in a matter of minutes. Not only that, but he later _rewarded_ Torchwick for humiliating him.

All things considered, he wasn't too interested in Ozpin deciding to attend to the matter with Little Red himself. It had been Ozpin's problem to begin with; he was the one who'd gone and invited her to Beacon, not Torchwick. Her suddenly attacking him was Ozpin's responsibility.

If anything, he was a little disappointed at the loss of a potential chance to mess with her.

Now, as for that boy's team name… A number of things came to mind.

ABYR for Arbiter seemed attractive, but not quite suitable. If he was being given free reign here, he would make sure to make it as disastrous a name as possible. JBRY for Jazzberry? Entertaining, but not to his tastes. There was also something about it that felt… Unoriginal. He couldn't pin down the sensation at all, but it made him feel uneasy.

He twisted and changed the letters in his head, and a number of different combinations began to appear. For every single combination, associated words sprang forth in multitudes - the vast majority of them dissatisfactory, but a few good enough to consider.

Eventually, he settled on something so perfect it made him laugh out loud. Humiliating, correct to the letter and with just the right amount of personality. He pulled out his scroll, and feverishly began typing a message for Ozpin.

Perhaps against all odds, he was beginning to look forward to his time at Beacon. The untold opportunities for mayhem were almost as inviting as the building itself.

He could hardly help himself as his grin widened just a fraction.

*X*

The auditorium was stuffed with people of all shapes and sizes. Some were standing in the seats up above, others standing just in front of the raised platform at which four young men were becoming a team of soon-to-be huntsmen.

"Cardin Winchester, Russel Thrush, Dove Bronzewing, Sky Lark…"

Stood before the four was the headmaster of Beacon academy, Professor Ozpin. It was like he radiated his authority as some kind of aura - Jaune could feel it in waves even from where he was standing among the horde of other students. "The four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces. From this day forward you will work together as Team Cardinal, led by Cardin Winchester."

The man in question smirked, and the person next to him patted him on the back. He responded with a punch to the shoulder.

There really was every different kind of person training to be a huntsman at Beacon. Even down to things like the weapons people had equipped, they were diverse and interesting (by comparison, Jaune felt like he was falling a little flat). They did, however all have one thing in common, even down to the four now leaving the stage.

They had _earned_ their place in Beacon.

Which was why, thought Jaune, the sight of them was way heavier than even Crocea Mors' sheath at his belt.

Even though he knew it was just the paranoia, the fear of getting caught, Jaune couldn't help but peer around nervously. He couldn't repress the occasional look behind him either, even when his partner, Blake, gave him strange looks.

He knew it was selfish, but it felt like all eyes were on him. And with that feeling came an unbearable pressure in the air around him. One that he wanted to bolt and run away from, crying and screaming all the way.

But he couldn't. A hero wouldn't run away like that, and if he wanted to be a hero he would have to hold fast, even against the urge to flee as he fast as he could.

He pushed aside the haze of fear clouding his mind, and in its place he tried to fill his thoughts with the people around him.

He stared at the four now making their way to the stage.

"Weiss Schnee, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren…" Ozpin began, "The four of you retrieved the White Rook pieces. From this day forward you will work together as Team Winter, led by Weiss Schnee."

The girl in white from initiation - Weiss Schnee - now had a grin on her face. Compared to the expression she'd worn then, the grin she wore now looked like it was going to split her otherwise ice-cold face in two. It was curved like a sickle, and had 'malice' written across its entire length.

A millisecond later, the expression vanished; returning her face to its more natural looking shape. She hadn't been wearing that freaky smile for long, but the memory of it was enough to send chills down Jaune's spine. Honestly, she looked more comfortable with the frosty, uncompromising expression - prettier too.

Her partner, on the other hand, looked… Well, it was hard to place. She had a completely neutral expression - sure, she was smiling a very small amount, but it felt completely disconnected from the rest of her face.

His father always told him that if you wanted to find out what someone was thinking, you looked into their eyes. And, although he wasn't quite certain, he'd have assumed the girl's - Pyrrha's - eyes said that she was disappointed. Why? He had no idea.

The pair on the end, a boy and a girl, looked happier about it. The girl - Nora Valkyrie - did, if the way she suddenly clung to the blank-faced boy was anything to go by. Compared to everyone else, she seemed to give off energy like some kind of stove - even when she was squeezing the life out of the boy her arms were wrapped around, she did it with a beaming smile on her face. Sure, the smile looked a bit insane, but it was still a real smile.

The boy, her helpless victim, didn't look too upset at his impending death by hug. Instead, he looked happy. He didn't show any obvious reaction to it, but his eyes had a bit of a sheen to them. One that, despite his emotionless appearance, told Jaune that he was genuinely happy.

Someone poked Jaune's elbow. He twisted around, and stared straight into the amber eyes of his partner.

It was time to go.

He followed the rest of the team out into the aisles, and then made his way to the stage. Every time he stepped forward, the following step felt heavier. Was this how criminals felt when they were walking toward the noose? The sense of looming dread was overpowering enough.

This time, distracting himself with his surroundings wasn't working. Every time he looked around, tried to pay attention to something else instead of the screen which now had his face, along with those of his team members, plastered upon it, it failed completely. His eyes were always drawn back to that stage at which the headmaster waited.

"Jaune Arc, Blake Belladonna, Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao-Long."

Did his name _really_ belong with those other ones? He'd seen the three of them fight - they were way better than he was. Maybe even better than he would ever be.

They, unlike him, were all truly amazing people.

"The four of you retrieved the White Knight pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as team…"

Ozpin then abruptly paused mid-sentence as a blonde-haired and intimidating looking woman stormed onstage. From the look of her, she was probably a teacher.

He raised an eyebrow as she started muttering something to him. Jaune caught something about 'unacceptable', but other than that he couldn't hear a word.

Jaune's heart didn't feel like it was beating anymore. Had there been some kind of mistake? Had they realised that he was a faker? And, if they had, was Professor Ozpin going to reveal it in front of all these people?

The people in the audience had broken out into a series of hushed whispers. It looked like Jaune wasn't the only one who was curious as to what was happening.

He looked over at his teammates. Ruby was giggling nervously into the back of her hand, trying to avoid staring at the two. Yang tapped her foot against the stone floor impatiently, but she mostly looked bored. Blake was, for whatever reason, rather tense. Jaune would've given her a nudge or something to reassure her if he wasn't as, if not more, freaked out than she was.

Ozpin then whispered something into the woman's ear, and she walked away with what looked like a snarl stuck on her face.

"Pardon the interruption." he apologised, coughing briefly into his hand, "The four of you shall, from this day forward, be working together as Team Abnormity..."

The audience broke out from their whispering into loud, unrestrained laughter.

Team _Abnormity?_

Although no signs of a smile were to be found on Blake, there was faint amusement in her eyes. Yang was clutching her sides and giggling, the force of it causing her blonde hair to ripple in waves. Ruby buried her face in her cloak in dismay, and her cheeks were red enough to match it.

Jaune didn't feel entitled enough to get upset about it. He was mostly glad to be _on_ a team, silly name or not.

"... Led by Jaune Arc."

A lump formed in his throat, and he felt nauseous - and this time, it wasn't the motion sickness. Him? How was that correct? He turned to the rest of the team and each one stared back at him with wide eyes.

Whatever his slowly inflating ego was telling him, this had to be some kind of mistake.

Jaune looked to the headmaster, and pointed a finger at himself questioningly. The headmaster responded with a small nod.

"Congratulations, young man." he said.

The headmaster probably didn't think it was anything major. It was just congratulating a student who hadn't expected to become a leader. To Jaune, however? This was the exact thing he'd needed to hear. This wasn't a mistake. This _wasn't_ a fluke.

Jaune Arc had been chosen to lead a team of the incredible. And the choice had been deliberate.

Maybe, just _maybe,_ Jaune Arc _was_ worthwhile. Maybe he _could_ become someone amazing. Even through the laughter of the audience at his dumb team name, through his own self-doubt and insecurities, he really could walk the path to becoming the hero he'd always wanted to be.

*X*

"Congratulations on becoming team leader, Vomit Boy!" cried the silver-eyed girl from her comfortable looking seat in their new dorm room.

Jaune sighed, and turned to his enthusiastic teammate. _Vomit boy?_ He supposed motion sickness must have seemed funny to someone who could fly through the air at nauseatingly high speeds using her weapon, but it was less than funny when a trip on a bullhead meant a very immediate trip to the bathroom and your latest meal taking a trip out of your stomach.

Didn't being leader mean you were supposed to command respect?

"Can we… Not have that nickname?" Jaune asked. It sounded more like an awkward squeak than a powerful order, but he guessed it would have to do.

"Why ever would that be, _Vomit Boy?"_ cooed Yang, a devious smile curling her lips.

"Because, you know, motion sickness is a common problem that affects loads of people?" Jaune replied with what he thought was a reasonable answer.

Yang laughed with what Jaune felt was a hint of sadism.

"It won't be a common problem unless our fearless leader here has to do any fighting on vehicles!" she laughed, and Jaune felt his spirit sink. It looked like the name Vomit Boy would be plastered upon him for a long time yet.

A hand placed itself on his back. He looked up and saw silver eyes staring down at him pityingly. Well, it seemed someone was at least being a little bit understanding.

"Don't worry," Ruby said, "If you ever get motion sick on a train, I'll be there to save you, oh fearless leader!"

Wait, Ruby was joining in on this too?

"I'll help so long as you promise not to get vomit on me." a voice from across the room commented. Sat across the room from the rest of them was Blake, who until then had been reading her book in peace.

Even his partner had betrayed him.

"Blake, how _could you?"_ Yang gasped, clutching her hand to her forehead in mock surprise.

"I'm sorry, but I won't endanger my clothes just to save the great Vomit Boy." she stated, with hints of an amused grin beginning to appear on her face.

It was weird to see her suddenly make comments like that, since Jaune had assumed she was the more reserved type. She'd been pretty quiet around the others in initiation, and the night before she'd been mostly buried in her books - people who approached her were quickly dismissed. He'd been so convinced that she'd do the same with him he hadn't really bothered to talk to her.

But she'd still wrapped her weapon around his leg and hoisted him up when he was about to fall to his impending death. She'd also unlocked his aura, which he hadn't even known existed, after she saw the bruise her weapon had left on his ankles. It was strange for someone he'd convinced himself would show almost no interest in him to go that far.

Why was it?

Looking at her again, he realised just how little he knew about his partner. He knew her name was Blake Belladonna, that she was incredibly skilled, and that she liked books. Other than that, he had no idea about her. He figured the same was true of his two other team members. He knew their names, Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao-Long. He'd seen them fight, and they were total monsters.

And just how much did they know about him? They knew that he _wasn't_ a very good fighter. Blake knew that until recently he didn't even have his aura unlocked. They knew he had motion sickness, which was definitely at his expense.

Perhaps they should all get to know eachother better.

"Hey - uh - team?" Jaune began. They broke out of their lively back-and-forth and all turned to Jaune.

"Yes, Vomit Boy?" Yang replied, causing Ruby to snicker. Blake looked up from her books to where Jaune was sitting, but her expression didn't look too curious.

"Well, I wanted to suggest - seeing as we've, well, fought together but don't really know each other all too well yet - we do some formal introductions?"

Yang raised an eyebrow.

"So, what would we even be talking about? We all know each other's names, right?"

Jaune's hand instinctively flew to the back of his neck from the lilac eyes on him.

"Well, yeah, obviously -"

Ruby narrowed her eyes.

"You do, right?" she asked.

"O-of course! I just thought we could maybe talk about our hobbies and interests and stuff - you know, learn stuff about each other. We _are_ teammates, and all."

"Sounds good -" the blonde bagan, before Ruby promptly cut her off.

"Sounds _great!_ I'll go first!" she said, a wide toothy smile at her mouth, "So, my name's Ruby Rose. I'm 15, and before coming to Beacon I lived at a small island near Vale called Patch with my dad, Yang and my dog, Zwei! I also used to attend a school named Signal, but I uh -" she tapped her heels together slightly nervously, "I kinda got transferred out early."

Wait, she fought like _that_ and she was _two years younger than him?_ Jaune could feel the humiliation seep its way through his body painfully.

"Anyway - it's not really very important. So, I'm like, _really_ into weapons. I've loved them ever since I was a really little kid; I built my own weapon - it's called Crescent Rose, by the way - when I entered Signal."

Wait, she'd _built_ that thing? That terrifying, morphing, mechanised scythe had been put together by - what - a twelve year old child!?

"I was taught to use it by my uncle Qrow! He's a bit weird, but he's really nice once you get to know him, and he's _crazy_ strong!"

It wasn't hard to imagine he would be if he'd taught her how to use that thing. That said, he was kind of glad to know _someone_ had taught her. If she'd taught herself… Jaune wasn't sure his self-esteem would've been able to take it.

"I also really like strawberries."

Well, at least she hadn't said anything else that could damage Jaune's ego even more.

"So… What made you want to become a huntress?" Jaune asked. It should've been impossible for someone to get to the level she was now at such a young age with natural talent alone - at least, that's what Jaune hoped - so she must have been working hard for a long time. People didn't put in that kind of effort without good reason.

The question had seemed innocent enough, but the way Yang stiffened threateningly and Ruby's face fell gave the opposite message.

Had he touched a sensitive topic?

The silence that suddenly took control of the room told him he had.

"Ruby -" Yang stepped forward and gently put her hand on the girl's shoulder.

Ruby, however, brushed it off, a far-off look in her eyes.

"It's okay, Yang." she said, beginning to stare at the floor, "You see… To me, being a huntress is about saving others when no one else could. Being a hero. It's what I've always wanted to do, and, well - there's more to it than that, but I'd, um, rather not talk about it."

With those final words, she bit her lip and started fidgeting with her skirt.

Well, damn it. He'd only asked one question and had managed to touch on something overly personal. The atmosphere in the room felt like it was growing heavier, crushing Jaune's shoulders and weighing down on his conscience.

"Okay, I'll go next." he said, and the heaviness vanished almost instantly as Ruby turned to him curiously and Yang's expression softened. "My name's Jaune Arc. I'm 17, and I grew up pretty far away from any of the main cities - basically in the middle of nowhere. There weren't even many other villages nearby, so we mostly had to fend for ourselves."

"How did you keep the Grimm out if you weren't living in any of the main cities?" asked Blake, peering out from the covers of her novel.

"Well - I come from a pretty long line of huntsmen. As a matter of fact, my sword actually comes from my great-great grandfather Jonathan Arc, who fought in the Great War. Because of this, most of my family are actually pretty tough, so Grimm were never as much of an issue for us."

Ruby's eyes were sparkling.

"Your weapon? What's it called?"

"Oh - well, uh, it's called Crocea Mors. It was honestly more of a family heirloom than anything else before it turned out that I was going to Beacon. They kinda had to dust it off before giving it to me."

"Do you have any siblings?" This time it was Yang who was asking.

"I have sisters, older and younger."

"How many?"

"Seven."

Yang whistled appreciatively.

"Sounds like your parents were busy."

"They really were - my dad always told me to -" he stopped dead in his tracks at seeing Ruby's reddening face and increasingly flustered expression, as much as Yang's gleeful smirk egged him on. "Y'know what, never mind."

Ruby looked relieved. Yang looked disappointed.

"So, what was growing up with seven sisters like?" Yang asked once again. "I have enough problems with just Ruby, so having seven must've been painful."

Ruby looked like she was trying to look hurt, but it only came out as a pretty adorable pout.

There were certainly a _lot_ of stories he could tell which involved his sisters, and exactly what life with them was like. Stories which involved dancing, knitting, and painful amounts of crossdressing; almost all of them embarrassing. Something told him his team would never let him live it down if he told one of those stories, so, he figured it would be better not to.

"... Hell." he responded drily.

That earned him entire team's laughter - even Blake was snickering a little behind the hand cupped to her face.

It surprised him that he actually had this much to say about his life. He'd always considered it so boring and uneventful - yet here these three were, being curious about it, and asking constant questions. It made him just a little bit happier.

"So… Anyone else?" Jaune asked, glancing between Yang and Blake.

"Sure, why not?" Yang spoke up eventually. "The name's Yang Xiao-Long. 17, by the way. I also grew up on Patch with my annoying lil' sis and my dad."

Ruby pouted once again.

"And I also went to Signal, accompanied by _these_ babies."

She held up her arms, drawing their eyes to the small yellow bracelets that were dangling from each wrist. Then, with a twitch of her hand and a rush of metal, the pair of bracelets were replaced almost immediately with a pair of yellow gauntlets that covered her arms up to her elbows.

"They're called Ember Celica. Anyways," she continued, the death machines on her arms becoming bracelets once more, "While I was there I had pretty much no trouble making friends. I actually had to mostly cover for lil' Rubes when she first came in and couldn't make any herself."

Ruby's pout became… pout-ier somehow.

"But things turned out alright in the end! I just so happen to be an _amazing_ motorbiker - maybe someday I could take you for a ride, _Vomit Boy,"_ Jaune winced at the very thought. "And I really like the taste of strawberry sunrise. Outside of that, there isn't much else I can really say, unless you want to hear about a bunch of people that thought they were my boyfriends for a little while."

"I'd rather not," muttered Blake from her bed.

"In which case, I'm now done!" said Yang cheerfully, before sitting down on her own bed.

Now, without exception, everyone in the room turned to Blake. She sighed, and snapped her book shut.

"My name is Blake Belladonna, and I'm 17. My weapon's called Gambol Shroud, and I like books." she said, before returning to reading.

Yang raised an eyebrow.

"Is that it?" she asked.

"Yes. That's it."

"Where'd you learn to use it? Y-your weapon." asked Ruby. She had that same wide-eyed, sparkly look she had before. Admittedly, Jaune wanted to find out too - the weapon was massively complex, unlike Yang's (although he wouldn't say that to the blonde's face) and Ruby had had a teacher to learn how to use her scythe from. From the way Blake wielded that thing against the Grimm in initiation, dancing around her enemies with extreme grace and quickly cutting their vitals, it was obvious she had used the thing for a long time - or someone had taught her how.

Blake stiffened immediately.

"I just… figured it out one day." she replied hesitantly.

It was obvious from her raised eyebrow how little Yang believed that. Jaune was more surprised at Ruby's amazed expression, apparently having _actually believed_ what the girl had just said, than at Blake's clearly fake answer.

For whatever reason, she didn't want to tell them about her history. Well, he'd messed up with asking Ruby why she wanted to be a huntress before, and he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. It would probably be best if they didn't push this issue.

He glanced at Yang, hoping she'd get the idea. She looked back at him. Less than a second passed in what felt like years before she nodded knowingly.

"Alright, well, that's everyone!" Jaune announced, "It's getting late, from the looks of it, and I think it's about time we got some rest - missing our first classes would really suck."

Well, it was only nine, but whatever would stop Ruby from asking any more questions.

"But I wanted to-" Ruby began, before a braceleted hand slipped over her chest and prevented her from speaking.

"No buts, Ruby. Leader's word!" she smiled evilly as Ruby tried to let out a muffled yelp.

Yang more or less dragged the protesting Ruby into bed, tying the blanket to the bedposts to prevent any potential escape, and then tucked her in gently. The silver-eyed 15 year old kicked and wriggled to try and free herself, but Yang's knots held firm. Eventually, when she could struggle no more, she resigned herself to staring up at the ceiling with her arms folded and letting out the occasional "Hmph!"

Eventually, the grumbling stopped and she fell asleep.

Yang, on the other hand, simply flopped on top of her bed, kicked her legs up, rested the back of her head on her hands and started snoring _very_ loudly. If Jaune didn't know any better, he'd have claimed she was awake and simply trying to annoy everyone.

But, given the personality she'd already put on display, he wasn't so sure.

Once they were both in bed, or _on_ a bed in Yang's case, Jaune turned to Blake. She was sitting up, completely still, clutching the sheets. Looking at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted, in disbelief.

He grinned awkwardly in response. He hadn't expected a reaction like _that,_ and didn't know how to deal with it - but his father had always told him that confidence was the best way to deal with these kinds of issues, so he just went with the grin.

For once, it seemed to work. The shock on her face was soon swept away by a small, but genuine smile. She whispered something, turned over, put her head on her pillow and pulled her duvet over her body.

He still didn't know much about her, and trying to get her to talk about herself had only made that even more painfully obvious. Worse still, she definitely had something to hide, but...

Well, what kind of secrets could she possibly keep that would be worse than his own?

He sighed, and let his own head rest on his pillow. Softness soon enveloped him, and he could feel a nice heaviness tug on his eyes. He felt like he was sinking into the bed, gently floating down into a comfortable pit.

Just before sleep took him, he thought about what Blake had said. She'd said it so quietly that Jaune had barely been able to hear it, but it echoed in his head repeatedly nonetheless.

" _Thank you."_

Smiling, Jaune closed his eyes, and drifted into his dreams.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** **Normally, I get a number of people to help me edit this, but I didn't actually get any help with this particular chapter - hence, if quality is generally lacking, then I'm sorry. Review responses shall now be at the end of the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

Pyrrha had high hopes the day she came to Beacon. She had high hopes that it would be a chance to escape being put on a pedestal, feeling that she could never interact with anyone else, feeling that she could finally be treated not as a better, but as an _equal._ Perhaps at Beacon, she would no longer be the big fish in the small pond and be seen not as the Invincible Girl, but as Pyrrha Nikos.

Safe to say, her hopes, lofty and perhaps overly ambitious as they were, were being dashed.

"Wake up, you lout!" a shrill voice barked at the lump entangled in a mess of bedsheets on top of the neighbouring bed.

"Renny… Is it… Morning already…?" the lump groaned in response, showing no signs of ceasing to be a lump and becoming the bubbly girl it once was again.

The girl trying to wake her up growled in response, and turned to the silent boy in the corner of the room. His eyes drooped a little, not just from the unearthly hour they'd been forced open at, but also from foreboding. Pyrrha couldn't blame him at all - their leader was like something out of a nightmare. Tyrannical, uncompromising, ruthless and sadistic.

It was funny that Pyrrha thought so poorly of someone that she'd barely even known for a day. _She_ of all people shouldn't have been so quick to judge books by their covers - her title frequently led others to ignore her contents, and she wouldn't normally have subjected people to this kind of treatment.

Then again, Weiss Schnee hadn't exactly made an amazing first impression.

The boy in green walked slowly up to the unmoving lump, and shook it a small amount where Pyrrha believed its shoulder was, the girl in white glaring at it all the while. This time, the lump twitched a little, but remained mostly still. Weiss shot the poor boy a glare, and the boy shook it again, this time a little harder.

"Perhaps I can -" she began to try and offer assistance, but the white-haired girl had her hands over her shoulders the instant she did.

"Please, Pyrrha, you needn't -" she said, an angelic smile plastered to her face, "As leader, it is _my_ responsibility to attend to trivial matters like these. You shouldn't concern yourself with this."

Before Pyrrha could even reply, she was sitting back down on her bed and the girl had gone back to pestering the boy in green. They were making absolutely no progress with rousing the lump. The girl growled, reached underneath the mattress, and flipped it up onto its side.

There was a rush of fabric as the duvet fell to the ground, but no accompanying thud from a person falling after it. The girl in white frowned, and peered over to the other side of the mattress.

Clinging to the side of it, in the exact same position she had been sleeping in, was a redheaded girl. Her knuckles were white with the strain of holding her completely in place, but she didn't budge an inch. Coupled with that, she was still _sleeping._

The frown on the girl in white's face was bone-chilling. She breathed in sharply, as if about to say something, before the boy in green tapped the redhead's shoulder.

"Nora, it's time to wake up now." he said calmly.

"Nooooo… it's… too early… Renny…" she groaned, eyelids still firmly closed.

The boy in green sighed, and then reached to the girl's exposed armpits… And tickled her. The girl soon dropped like a rock, trying to protect herself from her partner - but there was no escape. As soon as she tried to protect herself, his hands would move elsewhere and cause her to erupt into more giggles.

"Nora," the boy repeated, "It's time to wake up now."

The girl slumped, defeated.

"Okay, Renny." she replied. The boy offered her his hand, and lifted her to her feet. She giggled a little more, but was stopped when met with the frigid gaze of the girl in white.

"Just _why,_ exactly," she began, voice seething, "Did you not wake up the instant your leader asked?"

"Uh… I couldn't hear you…?" replied the redheaded girl, glancing around and trying to avoid the glacial girl's glare at all costs.

"As a member of Team Winter," Pyrrha noted how the girl's chest puffed out a bit at the team's name, "You should _always_ be listening out for your leader. There should never be any instance where you _cannot_ hear what I say if you do." her voice cracked like a whip, and Pyrrha flinched slightly when hearing it, "I hope that you keep this in mind in future."

The redheaded girl seemed, almost, to deflate a little upon being prodded so fiercely by the white witch. Even the boy's comforting pats to the back didn't seem to help.

 _This_ was to be Pyrrha's team for the upcoming four years at Beacon, and as things were going, she dreaded the thought of it. Her teammates were far from the issue - from the small opportunities she'd actually gotten to talk to them, Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie were genuinely kind and interesting people. The problem was that whenever they tried to approach or talk to her, Weiss Schnee, their _glorious leader_ , had swooped in and quickly sent them to do some menial chore and then started trying to flatter her.

Pyrrha hated it. She hated that, somehow, she was being isolated from her teammates in a tiny dorm room. She'd come to Beacon to escape the pedestal she'd been trapped on in Mistral, only for Weiss Schnee to drag her right back on to one.

She'd already began barking at Ren and Nora, repeating tired old drivel about standards and responsibility. With how Weiss treated her team members, it was almost as if she thought she was in the Atlas Military, not Beacon Academy.

"Team Winter!" Weiss announced, "Very soon it will be the start of our first semester at the illustrious Beacon Academy." she began to pace back and forth between Pyrrha and her two other teammates, "And we need to set the standard for the rest of the school! With that in mind, you must know that I expect only the best from each and everyone one of you. And what I saw this morning," she said, casting not-so-subtle glances towards Nora, "Was not the best. In our upcoming Grimm Studies lesson, I want you to demonstrate your full capabilities as huntsmen-in-training. Are we clear?"

Ren and Nora mumbled in what seemed to be agreement. It was probably closer to reluctant compliance, but it didn't make a difference to Weiss. She folded her arms and smiled, apparently satisfied with the response.

"Um, Weiss?" Pyrrha interrupted. Weiss instantly turned around, a much warmer but more insincere smile on her face once again.

"Yes, Pyrrha?" she asked, voice saturated with flattery. Pyrrha almost recoiled, but steeled herself at the last second.

"You said we have Grimm Studies next, yes?"

Weiss nodded, eyes narrowing.

"When did our Grimm Studies lesson start?"

"Nine…" her eyes drifted to the clock. It read eight fifty-five. It seems her ranting and failed attempts to wake up Nora had ended up wasting a lot of their time.

She flew out of the door almost instantly, causing several students in the hallways to cry and jump back in shock. Ren, Nora and finally Pyrrha followed after.

*X*

"Class dismissed!"

Pyrrha's mind shifted from wandering aimlessly back to being grounded in reality.

 _Oh, the lesson was over?_

She was certainly thankful for it - she wasn't sure detention could've been much worse than the dull drone of Port's lesson. The man couldn't be faulted for his passion, at the very least - but that passion didn't seem to carry through into making his lectures interesting. Every word he said seemed to blend together into one big, monotone drawl; it made trying to listen to him without falling asleep near completely impossible.

Her eyes drifted around the classroom, taking in her surroundings. A number of students were currently rousing themselves from the deep sleep they'd been sent into, then getting up, stretching with groans of relief, and slowly ambling out of the door like zombies. A few had managed to wake themselves up enough to have a lively conversation, but most remained in complete silence.

Pyrrha picked herself up off of the desk, and pulled herself to her feet. She still felt a little bleary from daydreaming for the past hour, but it would probably work its way out of her system eventually.

And then her eyes found the pair in the centre of the room, standing beside the remains of a dying grimm. It was Weiss, and someone she hadn't seen before - a little girl wearing a red cloak. Her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

The cloaked girl seemed to be complaining about something to the professor.

"B-but Professor Port! I didn't -"

"Yes, you did, Miss Rose." the professor curtly replied.

"But I -"

"No buts, I'm afraid."

While the little girl stammered away indignantly, Weiss was simply standing there, completely still - like she was some kind of statue. Her expression was twisted into one of complete and utter terror. Whatever the Professor had told them, it must have been something truly horrific for her leader to react like that.

"Wha… What was that, again, Professor…?" she eventually slurred out, breaking the cloaked girl and the professor from their former back and forth.

"I said, girl, that you'll be attending remedial sessions every day from now on."

 _Wait… what?_

Pyrrha hovered just outside the door.

"W… Why?"

The professor laughed.

"Why, surely you know, dear girl! You two had an unsanctioned fight on school grounds, and Miss Rose here attacked a teacher!" he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Pyrrha's curiosity had been firmly piqued. What on _earth_ had happened? Why would that cloaked girl suddenly attack a teacher? Was she some kind of juvenile delinquent? A problem child that had been accepted into Beacon because of sheer talent?

She hurried out of the door, and pushed her back to the wall once she was in the hallway, trying to listen in to what the three were talking about.

"B-but I was trying to stop her from attacking him!" stuttered Weiss's voice from behind the door.

The picture began to piece itself together. The girl in the red cloak had attacked a teacher unprovoked, and Weiss had stepped in to break it up, but inadvertently escalated the situation. It sounded like something Weiss would do.

"He is a teacher at Beacon. I can assure you, the man can handle himself."

"H-He's… A t-teacher…?" another, even higher pitch voice whispered.

"Why, of course! Professor Torchwick is our Economics teacher!" boomed Professor Port, "Didn't you know?"

Pyrrha caught a wail of despair coming from the room behind her - so high pitched she almost couldn't hear it.

The girl in the cloak _hadn't known_ the man was a teacher? How was that possible?

"T-this is absurd!" cried the voice of her leader, "P-preposterous! Why am _I_ facing punishment for trying to intervene?"

"Because, dear girl, it's the teacher's place to deal with rebellious students, and _not_ yours - admirable as your intentions may be."

The sound of frustrated stomps came closer and closer to the door, and it was soon slammed open as Weiss strode her way into the hallway, frowning in sheer rage.

"Stupid, immature, childish," she stamped her foot for every insult she heaped up through gritted teeth, "Infantile, petulant -"

Pyrrha couldn't help herself. She smiled, and then soon broke out into a quiet giggle. Her leader turned to her, face frozen. The sneer quickly transformed into a smile.

"Oh hello, Pyrrha! I didn't see you there." it sounded forced, and the smile Weiss was trying so hard to maintain twitched slightly.

Pyrrha's giggle broke out into a wave of laughter that threatened to knock her off of her feet. Weiss' face fell. Turning quickly, she rushed off down the hallway trailing even more insults behind her.

Pyrrha couldn't deny that it felt satisfying to see her leader so dismayed.

"So… Any reason you were eavesdropping on the Professor, the Ice Queen and my sister?"

Pyrrha looked to the left, her gaze meeting a blonde with a raised eyebrow, and a gleeful smirk. She coughed, and looked away nervously, her laughter stopping almost immediately.

"Um… Why were _you_ eavesdropping on them?" Pyrrha blurted out.

The girl began to laugh, but stopped as the door opened once again, and out of it stepped Professor Port with a terrified-looking girl in a red cloak behind him.

The Professor raised an eyebrow.

"You two were _eavesdropping_ on me?"

*X*

Jaune felt a little bleak. He'd been hoping that he'd get a little bit more time to spend with his team - if the next lesson was going to be anything like the last, he'd treasure all of the free time he got - but they all seemed to have other priorities. Ruby, for whatever reason, had been held up by the teacher on her way out of the classroom; hopefully not due to anything too serious.

Jaune idly wondered if the Professor saw Ruby's doodles. That would've been a good enough explanation if everyone else in the classroom hadn't been doing more or less the same.

Yang had, of course, decided to stay outside and wait for Ruby; denying Jaune every time he offered that they wait for her sister at the cafeteria. Jaune supposed it just wasn't worth the effort to try and drag her away from the door, and he was too hungry to wait with her.

Blake had simply vanished. Probably to go into a quiet corner to read her books - and Jaune wasn't about to go and look for her. If he ever found her, he got the feeling prying her from her books would be like trying to pull out the floor with his bare hands.

So, like it or not, he was probably going to be alone until the next lesson. He sighed, and pulled the scrunched up timetable out of his pockets. He opened it up, and looked at his lessons for the day. It looked like he had…

Economics? Jaune scratched the side of his head. That hadn't been on the list of classes Beacon was supposed to have, last he'd checked. Then again, the last time he'd checked was a while ago - maybe they'd gotten a new teacher for it? Why would a school for huntsmen even _teach_ Economics?

Well, so long as it wasn't as bad as Grimm Studies had been, Jaune supposed he didn't really care. It was supposed to be happening in about fifteen minutes, at the history classroom.

Wait, where was the history classroom? He'd gotten to Grimm Studies in the morning by just following Blake - he hadn't really gotten used to the layout of Beacon yet. The twisting hallways of the school might as well have been a maze to him.

He reached into another pocket, and pulled out a map. Supposedly, it was on the left wing of the building… But how on earth was he going to get there?

"Looking for the history classroom?" a voice behind him asked.

Jaune twisted around, seeing a new figure in front of him extending a gloved hand.

"Uh, yeah." he answered, as awkwardly as expected.

"How convenient! You can just follow me, then - it's my next destination too." the man answered, his cane making muffled thuds against the floor as he walked.

Jaune took in his appearance - the man had a few inches on him, which was obvious even with the hat he wore on his head. Neatly combed red hair fell out from underneath the hat's rim, covering one of the man's eyes - the other one had, for whatever reason, a bit of mascara on it. He wasn't wearing the uniform; instead, he wore a white suit with an open collar.

He probably wasn't a student, then. If so, was he a teacher?

"The name's Roman Torchwick, if you were wondering," he said cheerfully, face in an easy looking smile, "But I suppose that's Professor Torchwick to you, Mr. Arc." he tipped his hat slightly, "I teach Economics here."

"... Oh." Jaune responded. Well, that answered those questions. "Wait, you know my name?"

"Well, we did have a giant ceremony in which everyone saw your name just yesterday,"

Jaune felt stupid.

"I guess that explains it, then, huh?"

"Well, I have to say, Jaune - can I call you Jaune?" Jaune nodded slightly in response, and the man's smile widened a fraction, "I've already forgotten half of the people at that ceremony. I guess yours was just memorable enough for me to care."

Wait, why him? What was so memorable about him? He realised what it probably was, and inwardly sighed.

"It's the team name, isn't it?" he asked, grimacing a little.

"Nope." Professor Torchwick replied, leaving Jaune a little taken aback, "Although, the team name _was_ pretty funny. The actual reason I remembered your name is because it was the name I wanted the leader of your team to have."

Jaune's eyes widened. He looked back at the man walking next to him in shock. The question that had been at the front of his mind moved to the tip of his tongue.

 _Why me?_

"W-why me…?" he asked, and mentally kicked himself for sounding so bumbly.

"Why are _you_ asking me this?" he responded, almost immediately, "Don't you think you're good enough to be a leader?"

He didn't, and he wanted to know why this man _did._

"The others on my team," he replied, "They're so much better than I am - I don't think I'm cut out to lead them."

The Professor stopped, and Jaune stopped shortly after, turning to him.

"You're right on three accounts. They're certainly stronger than faster than you, and from what I saw in initiation, more skilled too." the words hit Jaune like a hammer, but he listened on regardless. "But, you have one thing they don't; one thing that piqued my interest."

Jaune couldn't help but wonder what it was.

"W-what was that?" he asked, hoping against all hope.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you, Jaune?" his smile was still there, but his eyes told Jaune he was being deadly serious.

Jaune thought about it for a moment.

 _What if his answer was something he didn't like?_

It didn't matter. No answer he could possibly give could be worse than the pain of beating himself up over him being made leader. He _had_ to know.

"Y-yeah."

"Absolutely certain?"

Jaune faltered for a moment. Was he?

"Yes."

Torchwick laughed.

"The one thing you had over all of the competition, Jaune," he said, still smiling as much as ever, "Was your transcripts."

Jaune suddenly realised just how alone he was in the hallway.

"W-What about them?"

'Well, for one, they said you went to that academy in Vacuo before it was destroyed, meaning that you have the most experience with actual Grimm attacks of any of the students entering this year. That could come in handy in the event you need to help your team out of one here in Vale." he said flatly.

Oh yeah, he'd written that on those transcripts. He thought it would be best if he had his academic records come from a destroyed school - it would make it much harder for Beacon to check if they were real or not.

So, that was it, huh? Jaune honestly felt proud of himself, in a twisted way. The transcripts he'd forged not only got him into Beacon, but also made him the leader of his team. It still didn't mean he deserved the position, though.

"They also said you were the leader of your team back there before they all died in the attack."

He was? Wait, had he put _that_ in his transcripts?

"Oh wait," Torchwick said, tapping his temples, "That was something I made up for you, not something you made up yourself. My bad,"

Jaune's blood suddenly felt much, much colder.

"W-what?"

"Well, you see, your transcripts _were_ definitely the most interesting thing about you," he responded, "In that they were the worst piece of forgery I've ever seen. It was almost impressive how badly you messed that one up, kid."

The words knocked the air out of him instantly, as if punching him in the stomach.

"I even had to tamper with them myself just to get them to a level that would actually make it past Ozpin."

His legs felt like they were completely stuck to the carpeted floor, as if trapped in stone. His hands were shaking, and cold sweat trickled down his neck. He wanted desperately to run, to get the heck out of Beacon, but he couldn't even move.

"Wh-what do you want?" asked Jaune, voice trembling.

Torchwick hummed in mock thought, tapping his foot against the carpeted floor.

"I think, Jaune," he said, his smile static, "That I want to see a show of gratitude for the effort it took me to get you into Beacon. Doesn't seem too unreasonable to me; how about you?"

"N-no." Jaune whimpered. Dammit, a hero was supposed to keep their cool in situations like these! They weren't supposed to cower and buckle in the face of an overwhelming threat!

 _But you're no hero, are you, Jaune?_ taunted a part of him he'd been trying to keep repressed.

"Wonderful! I guess a few odd jobs for your Economics teacher here and there couldn't hurt, right?" Torchwick asked, an almost childish glee in his voice. A single glance at the man's eyes told Jaune that it was fake, and that he also wasn't even trying to hide it.

Slowly, Jaune nodded.

He'd been trapped. He'd been naive, and he'd been stupid. This was obviously the kind of thing that would happen to him, wasn't it? He didn't have any choice but to accept what this guy was saying!

It didn't stop him from feeling sick to his stomach.

"Fantastic, _White Knight._ " Torchwick said, twirling his cane around his fingers, and disappearing around the corner.

Jaune couldn't even move before Torchwick poked his head back out into the corridor.

"By the way, Economics class is just to your right." he said, motioning to the door next to Jaune, "The lesson starts in fifteen minutes. Don't be late!"

He was gone with a wink. Jaune collapsed against the door.

Sure, why the hell a teacher would even do something like this was a question at the front of his mind - but it wasn't like he could stroll up to Ozpin and ask. Instead, he was much more concerned about what the self-preserving part of his brain was asking:

 _Just what had he gotten himself into?_

*X*

Explaining herself to Professor Port hadn't been easy. The man was certainly a lot more sly than he let on in his lessons, and it had been _very_ difficult to convince him that she was just waiting outside for Weiss, who had stormed off before she was able to catch up. At numerous points, she'd honestly thought she was done for - a single frown or eyebrow raise could have meant he was putting her in detention as far as she was concerned.

If the girl who'd been standing outside the door with her had the same problems, it didn't show at all. She'd responded with easy grins, jokes and the occasional innuendo that Port laughed along with. Pyrrha supposed it was easier to not crack under the pressure when you were telling the truth, but it was hard for her to imagine anyone not buckling under the Professor's scrutiny.

She'd been especially surprised when the blonde covered for her just as Port had her on her last legs.

"I go by Yang Xiao-Long, if you wanted to know." the girl said, grinning as she strolled alongside Pyrrha to their next lesson.

"I'm Pyrrha Nikos, but you probably already knew that."

The blondie smiled. "Yup! Your reputation precedes you. My sister's actually a pretty huge fan."

Pyrrha turned to Yang's sister, who was currently fixing a nervous gaze to the floor and biting her nails fervently. She'd been deathly silent since Yang dragged her out of the classroom.

Was this girl seriously one who'd attacked a teacher?

"Is she… Normally like this?" Pyrrha asked hesitantly. She didn't want to make things suddenly turn awkward, but she was curious enough to take the risk.

"Nope." Yang replied, nonplussed, "She'd normally be a lot more…" she tapped her chin, looking for the right word, " _Ruby_ , but she's currently out of commission. Given that you were listening in on what the Professor was talking about earlier, you probably have some idea why."

Pyrrha gave a nervous chuckle. She'd be pretty guilty too, if she'd been the one to unwittingly attack a teacher - she could empathise.

'Do you have any idea what happened?" asked Pyrrha.

Yang shrugged.

"I do, but it's not really my story to tell," she answered.

Pyrrha shot Ruby a curious glance, hoping she'd be able to elaborate. The girl still remained completely silent, and Pyrrha sighed. An uncomfortable silence filled the air - so thick that it probably could have been put in a jar.

"So... You won a bunch of tournaments in Mistral, right?" Yang asked, breaking the ice - much to Pyrrha's relief.

"Well… Yes." as much as she was glad for the conversation, Pyrrha couldn't help but get a little flustered every time someone brought it up.

"What were the opponents like?"

"Um..." Pyrrha rubbed the back of her head, wondering what to say, "They fought well."

"Be honest, girl. This isn't one of your interviews." she said, wrapping an arm around Pyrrha's shoulder.

Pyrrha giggled a little bit. It was unusual for someone to be so forward around her, and even more so for them to act so informally.

"A lot of them were really clumsy and predictable. It wasn't until much later on in the bracket they started getting more skilled."

"And the ones in the top bracket?"

"They were talented, incredibly so."

"If they were, how'd you win?"

Pyrrha scratched her cheek nervously.

"... Luck."

Yang raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. Pyrrha tried to meet her questioning gaze, but couldn't.

"My semblance." she amended.

Yang smiled.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Well…"

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," Yang proposed, a glint in her eyes.

"I'd really rather not." Pyrrha blurted out, and Yang looked a little disappointed before readopting her signature grin. "Sorry," she added.

"No problem," she replied. "Hey…"

Pyrrha tilted her head to the side questioningly.

"Would you say I'm tougher or weaker than the strongest person you ever fought in Mistral?"

Pyrrha's eyes widened. Was this a challenge of some kind? If she had to answer, she'd probably say…

"I don't know." Pyrrha replied honestly, "I haven't seen you fight yet."

"I see…" Yang hummed in thought. "Alright, it's decided!"

Yang turned to Pyrrha, a determined fire in her eyes.

"Come our first combat class, Pyrrha, I want us to have a match. And, when that happens, I want you to answer that question. Are you up for it?"

Pyrrha wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

"Yang…!" a voice chastised to the right of them both. They turned, and to Pyrrha's surprise it was Ruby who spoke.

"Woah, has Rubes finally recalibrated?" Yang joked, and was met with a ferocious poke to the cheek from her sister.

"Yang, you can't just challenge _Pyrrha Nikos_ to a fight like that! What if she doesn't want to, huh?" Ruby challenged, pouting.

"Well, what if she _does?"_ Yang retorted, batting aside Ruby's follow-up poke.

"Actually…" Pyrrha began, and the two of them turned from their squabble to her, "I'd love to, Yang."

Yang gave out a triumphant 'ha!' and responded to Ruby's indignant shoulder punch by grabbing her around the neck and ruffling her sister's hair with her knuckles. Ruby groaned, trying to pry Yang off of her and failing completely.

Well, at least Ruby was talking now. She could see what Yang had meant when she said that the silver-eyed girl was usually more _Ruby_ now. The girl seemed incredibly upbeat and lively.

"Pyrrha…" Ruby groaned, "Save me…"

Pyrrha jokingly shot her a sorrowful look, and shook her head.

"It's too late now, Ruby."

Yang's hair-ruffling intensified.

"Nooooo!" Ruby wailed as she was forced to the ground and finished off with a vicious round of tickling.

Yang was laughing, Ruby was laughing, and before she knew it Pyrrha was laughing too. Pyrrha reached down and lifted the giggling Ruby to her feet. The girl brushed the dust off of her skirt, a smile of appreciation on her face. Yang then sauntered off ahead, and Ruby quickly ran to catch up with her.

Pyrrha smiled, and then began to run to another lesson. This time, in the company of friends.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **Bomberguy: When you were talking about a lack of reason for interaction between Teams ABYR and WNNR, that was pretty much the purpose of Ruby and Yang talking to Ren and Nora. That said, I've followed up on that in this very chapter - now the only thing standing between the two teams being friends is, well, you'll see...**

 **As for Torchwick being taken off the streets and the consequences of that... Okay, I'll admit I've not shown much of that since Neo (spoiler alert, I guess? It was pretty obvious it was her to begin with) was the narrator a grand total of I believe 5 chapters ago. I'll see if I can do something about that next chapter, and it's definitely something I'll take into consideration. The main reason I've been avoiding it, and plan on avoiding going into detail about it in future too, is because I kind of want it to be something that is discovered by our protagonists as the plot progresses as opposed to something told to us from Cinder's perspective (switching into an antagonist's perspective all the time makes them feel inherently less threatening). Maybe I'll do something from Junior's point of view, since I was planning on expanding on him in this fic to begin with and it wouldn't give away too much of Cinder's current machinations.**

 **Kamina44: Writing canon is _insanely_ boring, and if I'm bored writing it then I assume my audience will be bored reading it (I skipped out initiation for a reason) - changing as much as possible gives me way more narrative freedom to work with, essentially meaning I can change character dynamics between characters that aren't just Torchwick and someone else. I apologise for not being able to catch your interest enough with the new teams - I hope that changes in the present and future chapters, but there's nothing I can do to change them back now that would actually make sense.**

 **Engineer & Lloyd: You both hit the nail on the head. Pyrrha won't directly confront Weiss, who's position has now gone directly to her head and beyond. Poor Pyrrha.  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** **It's okay guys, I'm alive! I've just been in critical condition after being hit by a truck(-sized workload). So... I hope noone minded that single chapter of The Wizard's Apprentice I uploaded one whole week and a half ago; it's still pretty heavily in the planning stage, so it's probably going to be a while until you can see it again. Anyways, this chapter has been in limbo for quite a while due to general writing difficulties and Dark Souls 3 eating my time.**

 **Again, this chapter wasn't edited due to the fact that the guy who normally edits my stuff got his phone stolen and won't be back until around February.**

 **I'm considering switching to a weekly upload schedule. I've been getting a lot of homework recently, and it's made actually getting the time to sit down and write this really difficult.  
**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

Junior's life hadn't been going well recently. It started when that blonde bitch trashed his nightclub - the repairs had been weighing heavy on his already decently tight budget, and Roman suddenly asking him for a bunch of his men when they were supposed to be helping him with the heavy lifting hadn't helped much either. The Malachites hadn't lifted a single heavily manicured finger to help him out yet, too.

Then, two days later, he found out that all of them men he had hired to aid Roman were all in jail. He was pissed about that, alright; Roman normally was not nearly that careless, and Junior had loaned him those men under the impression that the heist he wanted to perform was easy and would go off without a hitch. Roman seemed to have been under that impression when he talked to him, too - saying that he had contacts that could help him if anything went to shit.

Well, Junior had gotten _real_ mad when he found out about how such a _simple heist_ had failed so fucking spectacularly. So he'd gone and checked every major hideout Roman went to when he tried to lay low - and, lo and fucking behold, Roman had dropped off of the face of Remnant.

And Roman Torchwick disappearing suddenly was enough to make every underground bigshot in the right circles go completely fucking ballistic.

He picked up an unattended glass, and began wiping it.

"What's eating _you_ out, boss?" asked a sassy voice.

If there was one thing Junior didn't want right now, it was pity. Especially not from those two.

"Nothing's eating me out, Melanie." he replied.

"That's some A-grade bullshit, boss. You don't talk much, but it's never _this_ bad. You're stressed about something, right?" asked another, equally sassy voice.

Junior massaged his temples. Normally, the two gave him a wide berth to deal with his own issues - but, for some reason, they were being awfully persistent with this one.

"I thought it would be obvious, Miltia." he gestured to the gaping fissure in the dance floor from where the crazy blonde bitch's punches had literally split the fucking earth, "Having your central business taken out of commission isn't exactly relaxing."

"Implying we haven't dealt with the same kind of thing before," said Miltia, wagging her finger in the air dismissively.

"We serve trained huntsmen drinks - stuff like this is honestly pretty run of the mill. What's the _real_ reason you're so rustled?" finished Melanie.

Junior sighed, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"It's Roman."

The twins narrowed their eyes.

"What about him?" Miltiades questioned.

"It's got me on edge. Him disappearing and all," Junior admitted, letting his shoulders relax, "If the law has finally managed to get him, then I'm afraid that we could all be fucked."

Well, it wasn't a matter of _could_ , really. If the police had actually _finally_ managed to capture Roman Torchwick, then it would only be a matter of time until every single one of them was rotting in a cell.

"Well, that's _if_ the cops got him." Melanie added drily. "It's not like they're the only ones who want to see his head on a platter."

"Good luck with that." Junior scoffed, "With that psychotic multi-coloured bitch protecting his ass, removing his head is like trying to bring down the moon."

Of course, what with her freakish skills, he definitely wouldn't say "psychotic multi-coloured bitch" to Neo's face. How Torchwick had managed to land a follower that dangerous and _still_ command her almost unquestionable loyalty was beyond Junior.

"Well, if they really managed to catch the guy, any reason why his capture wouldn't go straight to the papers?" said Miltia, looking unimpressed.

She wasn't wrong about that - if Torchwick was finally caught red-handed at a crime scene, it would be all over the news within a fucking minute. Whichever VPD member that managed to put him behind bars would probably be knighted too. But… Something about the look on her face pissed him off, and he snapped.

"I don't fucking know. I mean, look at the men I loaned him sleeping in the slammer - for all I know, he's gone and sold all of us out to save his own damn skin!" Junior exclaimed, letting all of the pent up nervousness out.

The door to the nightclub slammed open, and Junior froze. Melanie and Miltia's mouths snapped shut faster than they could even have made a response. A small group of Junior's men had rushed to the door, trying to keep their new guest out while they were busy with repairs. They were newbies, hired to replace the thugs that had disappeared with Torchwick, and clearly didn't know what they were getting into.

Then again, to them it probably just looked like four guys surrounding a single, tiny, multicoloured girl with an umbrella.

With a snapping sound, all four of the people he hired collapsed, and the angry sound of high heels clicked towards the bar. Junior looked to the left and right of him nervously, and realised that Miltia and Melanie had both disappeared completely.

 _Well, so much for loyalty._

Junior looked to the midget's expression, and he saw a heavy and _extremely_ dangerous frown creasing her forehead. He glanced back to the corpses of his henchmen and - wait, they weren't corpses. Their chests were rising and falling steadily. They were groaning with pain, and stumbling on the brink of consciousness, but at least they weren't dead. That had to mean _something,_ right?

She was pissed alright, but not at them. Slowly, his muscles, which had stiffened instinctively, began to relax, and the Malachites returned to their typical positions at the bar, but were spaced far apart enough to make way for the oncoming psycho.

Junior coughed.

"Uh - hi, Neo." Junior began, polishing his glass nervously, "Sorry for the… Frosty reception."

The dual-coloured death-dealer didn't make any move to reply, instead slamming her tiny frame down on one of the bar seats, and then pointing immediately at one of the drink options on the blackboard. Junior rubbed the glass a little faster.

"Uh, y'know, Roman really wouldn't be happy if I gave you one of -"

He was cut off mid sentence when, with a flash of silver, a blade was at his throat. In that typical, creepy fashion, letters began to materialise on the small note of paper she had in her hand. It was promptly shoved in his face.

 **'Well, Roman isn't here.'** it read.

Junior swallowed, and began to pour the clear liquid into a glass, only relaxing when he heard the blade retract into its inconspicuous sheath from behind him. He reached over and the tiny girl instantly snatched it from his grasp, downing it in a single gulp. She then pointed back at the board, and Junior sighed.

Well, if she got too drunk she'd probably end up killing them all, but if he refused to serve her his fate would be sealed in much the same way. He supposed it was better to take his chances as he poured her another glass of the drink.

"So… Uh…" he looked through his head, trying to find the right words to avoid assured death, "Do you have any idea where Roman's _gone?_ "

The girl noticeably stiffened, as did Junior. Had he fucked up? He put the glass down on the table, and the girl gripped it so hard that it shattered.

Well, shit. Junior closed his eyes and prepared for the sharp point of her weapon to pierce his throat, only to feel a tap on his shoulder. He winced, and cracked one eye open, only to see the image of an all-too familiar location on a photo held to his face. Junior glanced back and forth from the image to her face, and couldn't even catch a _hint_ of the telltale amusement of a liar in her eyes.

"... Wait, are you serious?" he asked, hesitantly.

The girl pinched the bridge of her nose and put down the photo, nodding slowly. The Malachites shuffled closer on their chairs, eager to get a closer look at the photo Neo had just shown Junior. A single heterochromatic glance sent them scurrying back to the edges of the bar.

"Why… Why are they holding him _there?_ "

The girl replied with a shrug. So, she didn't know either.

"Do you plan to do anything about it?"

Neo nodded, and with a sound like tinkling glass, another note was pressed into his face. Junior spluttered. This was insane - this was _suicidal!_ There was no way in hell she was seriously going to pull this off; not in one million fucking years.

He told her as much, and she frowned at him.

She furiously filled another note, and before long it was right in front of Junior's eyes.

He sighed, shoulders slumping.

There really _was_ no compromise with this kid, was there?

*X*

Torchwick wasn't exactly giddy with excitement as he finally approached the door. While he'd been delighted with the prospect of messing with each individual student at Beacon, actually having to _teach_ them didn't sound too appealing. It wasn't really like it would be too difficult - he'd taught people before; only then, it was thugs who were desperate to stab him in the back and climb the criminal ladder. _These_ would be teenagers, reluctant to disobey him for fear of a mere hour or so in detention.

He simply wasn't looking forward to the extra effort.

"Are you listening to me, Torchwick?" the voice of Glynda Goodwitch bit into his right ear, tearing him from his comfortable thoughts.

"Loud and clear, Purple. You want me to make sure this lesson goes awfully so that you can fulfil your hidden agenda and get me fired, correct?" Torchwick asked, watching in amusement as Glynda twitched slightly.

"No -" she spluttered, "I want you to teach these students Economics - and nothing else. Do you understand?"

"Does this involve upstaging you as a teacher or not?"

Glynda scoffed.

"We aim for the highest teaching standards possible at Beacon - so if you can, by all means try." she drawled, and Torchwick rolled his eyes.

He might have believed her if the tie man and ape weren't the antithesis to that statement - clearly there was a big disparity between what they were aiming for and what they actually _achieved._

"Of course, Purple," he said, stepping through the doorway and twirling his cane.

He looked out across the group of students. The bulk of them were standing around or sitting on their tables, talking, and some of them were sound asleep. He could count the amount of students paying any real attention at all on one hand - five in total. The Schnee, the red-headed Invincible Girl, and the Lie boy all sat with their books open and their eyes on him, waiting silently for the lesson to start. The last two were looking at him with either crippling guilt, or - he noted this one with a hint of satisfaction - fear. Little Red and the Arc boy respectively.

He walked up to his desk, his lips curling in distaste as he realised that it was covered in the aftermath of a paper avalanche. He brushed it aside, reminding himself to have a small word with the green-haired professor the next time they met about the state of his desk. With a small clearing now made in the center of the desk, and Glynda staring at him scrutinizingly, he raised his cane in the air.

And brought it down with a crash that bounced around the entire room, causing a number of the students to clutch their hands to their ears. Good - now every single student in the room had their eyes on him.

"All right, students! Sit down…" Torchwick began, spreading his arms and projecting his confidence, "... And shut up."

The students promptly began to move to their seats. A few of them murmured indignantly, but were quiet as soon as Torchwick met their eyes. Everyone was now seated, and silent - perfect.

"My name is Professor Torchwick," he made his introduction short - it helped leave a lasting impression, "And I'm your Economics teacher." he slowly began to pace around the centre of the room, paying close attention to which pairs of eyes were following him and which weren't.

"Now, I'm going to start this lesson by asking you all a simple question. _What_ is the most valuable resource on Remnant?"

This was the key to grabbing people's attention. Engaging them directly and right from the get go - it would make them invested in whatever he could say further down the line.

A single hand went up in the air almost immediately. Nobody turned to it; instead, they stayed looking at him, afraid to tear their eyes away.

"Miss Schnee." Torchwick pointed at the white-haired girl the hand was attached to.

"Dust." she stated matter of factly. Clearly, she actually thought she'd gotten the answer right, from the way she was holding herself - the classic slightly upturned nose and smug smile. Everyone looked at him expectantly, awaiting his response.

Torchwick tapped his feet, and looked up at his clock ticking by. They certainly were taking their time, weren't they?

He looked back up, and a number of completely blank faces stared back at him.

The total silence in the room slowly began to dispel as people tapped their pens against the desks, or drummed their fingers on their seats. Glynda looked like she was getting impatient, from the way her normal scowl had focused in on him with the intensity of a high-powered laser - it only made the experience more entertaining.

Almost fifteen minutes into the lesson, it looked like the impatience in the room was about to boil over into disorder. Torchwick chose this moment to finally break the silence.

"You know," he said, "I'm waiting for an answer here. The fact no one else raised their hand after that tells me that you all thought she was correct - and that's a problem. Allow me to ask again; _what_ is the most valuable resource on Remnant?"

The Schnee bolted upright from her desk, a glare like fire in her ice-cold eyes. When Torchwick actually bothered to return it, she shrank back a little, but quickly regained her composure.

"With all due respect, Professor," she protested, her annoying drivel knifing its way into Torchwick's skull, "The Dust industry is by far the most profitable in all of the four kingdoms -"

"Miss Schnee," Torchwick cut her off before she could continue with her migraine-inducing tirade, " _Dust_ is the layman's multi-billion lien industry. I'm not asking about which resource fills your company's coffers the most, I'm asking for the most hotly contested and most prized possession anyone in Remnant can possibly have. It's a necessity, yes, but Dust is everywhere, and in no short supply. _This_ resource isn't."

The Schnee looked like she'd been struck by lightning - paralysed by the sheer shock of being wrong. He supposed it must have been a new experience for her; being humiliated in front of all of these people. A few of them were breaking out into muffled laughter, clapping their hands to their mouths and trying to avoid her gaze.

"I - I see sir." she said, mouth flapping as if she was trying to speak more, but with a distinct lack of words actually leaving her mouth. Slowly, her eyes glazed over as if hallucinating, she sat back down.

"Well, at least you said _something_. Alright, anyone else?" Torchwick asked, "Or are _all_ of you completely clueless?"

There was a moment of silence. Glynda fired an otherwise soul-crushing glare at him, but he ignored it completely.

After all, it was only a matter of time until he'd start getting responses.

Then, the students who had previously been about as lively as corpses began to mumble among themselves, frantically exchanging ideas. He grinned. It was simple, really - they were desperate to betray his expectations of them, as all teenagers so often were. A simple, stupid desire - but one that was more than enough to make them actively invested in his lesson.

Glynda shifted her eyes from him to the animated and excited students, then back to his face again, then back to the students, completely shocked. Her jaw simply hung open, her usual scornful expression was replaced with one of wide-eyed wonder.

Before long, a hand went up. Or, well, it was forced up into the air by a girl in pink.

"Yes, Mr. Ren?"

"... Aura tree wood?" he asked, before the Valkyrie girl began to shake him viciously, smiling all the while. He was certainly closer than the Schnee had been - aura trees were rare, and valuable beyond imagining - but he still was missing the mark by a long shot.

Torchwick shook his head.

"Nope. Surprised you know about the stuff, though." Torchwick replied.

The redhead let out a loud 'aww!' before another hand went up at the back.

"Gold?"

Torchwick laughed. Ah, _gold_. People had been interested in the stuff because it was shiny, and rare - but it fell out of the market almost completely. As for why? Well, it was too heavy, too soft and too rare to be used for anything even slightly practical - although, it was popular in trinkets a while back, and used in old wiring; but as with anything that could only ever be used to make people look good, it eventually just fell out of fashion.

"... No. Just… No. Gold is completely useless."

A few more students tried, and failed. Before long, however, everyone was staring at him, dejected and defeated. It seemed they'd exhausted their rebellious stages now; it was time to finally take the lead.

"It's pretty simple, actually." he began, hesitating for a moment to let the suspense build, "It's real estate."

Showing them the gap in their knowledge and experience would make them more willing to listen to him now that they'd realised that they weren't as good as they hyped themselves up to be. Trying to show off would no longer paint a target on his back - they realised just how good he was at this. As if to prove his point, a number of the students were now looking at him with what might as well have been reverence for unruly teenagers - respect.

These brats weren't about to dissent now. Better still, he hadn't even needed to make an example out of one of them through punishments - yet.

"The world is filled to the brim with beowolves and bandits, kids - you of all people should understand that. So, to the average, aura-less person, nothing seems more appealing than somewhere comfortable and safe to live. Sure, the major civilisations are kinda safe, but it wouldn't be comfortable if every random person from every village in eastern Sanus lived in Vale, now would it?"

The bulk of the students were now nodding along, clearly beginning to see his line of reasoning.

"So… That means living space that's safe is in extraordinarily high demand, but there's barely enough of it to go around. The Vale council tries its very hardest to keep the prices of housing down through regulation, and unlike with a lot of things they do -" that comment won him a scowl from Goodwitch, and laughter from some of the students, "They actually succeed. So, people that aren't drowning in money can actually stay afloat in the inner city."

A large series of hands went up, and Torchwick smiled to himself. From this point onwards, the lesson was going to be completely smooth sailing. Although a few students were clearly not listening, he chose to ignore them. They'd cause problems for the other teachers, which was everything Torchwick wanted so long as he was still stuck here.

Forty minutes passed, and Torchwick - surprisingly - enjoyed every single moment of it.

It wasn't that he found teaching fun. He'd been correct when he assumed he wouldn't enjoy it much. Sure, there was something cathartic in everyone having their eyes on him after he'd spent the majority of his life hiding from the public spotlight; but these students were honestly annoying him. They would never take the initiative - relying on constant hand holding, and whenever he asked questions none of them had the decency to give him a correct answer in return.

No, he ended up enjoying the growing look of pure horror Glynda had on her face as she realised just how engaged these naive brats were in his lesson. It brought about a satisfaction that topped any cigar or glass of wine - the satisfaction of total and complete victory; the kind that made your heart race and skin tingle.

It was probably about the moment she realised that he was better at the job he had been forced into for a week than she was at the job she'd pursued for about a decade that she finally slipped out of the room.

*X*

The bell had rung, and the last students had filed out of Torchwick's classroom to go and eat whatever slop they served at the cafeteria. Which left Torchwick completely alone, and with his only job for the day done.

So, he supposed he could now return to his own devices. He'd probably go and make something to eat first, and then go and find something to pass the time - it wasn't like he was planning on diving into the sea of paperwork Glynda had poured on his table this morning any time soon. Since all of his normal avenues of entertainment were closed off to him more or less completely at Beacon, this probably meant he'd be admiring the building for the rest of the day until it was time to sleep.

But, he had one thing to attend to first…

He stepped up to the rows of desks, and began to scale the stairs. The desks were all extremely high quality - they were totally smooth, and reflected the light well enough for Torchwick to see his own reflection in them. It was safe to say that like most of the furniture in Beacon, these desks were absolutely _beautiful_.

Which was exactly why he had to check them for any signs of damage before leaving. It wouldn't do to have these desks come to any harm in _his_ lesson, would it?

And, from what he could see, there wasn't a single scratch on any of their surfaces. He took a deep breath, and looked underneath them.

… Nothing.

He got up, and dusted himself off.

Well, time to go and make himself something to eat -

His scroll buzzed, and Torchwick let out an exasperated sigh. He lifted the device out of his pocket, and, as expected, the message was from Ozpin.

'You're needed in the detention room immediately.' it read.

Torchwick quickly typed out a response and sent it to him.

'What for, Greenie?'

The reply came almost immediately.

'Detentions, of course.'

He could practically see Ozpin's infuriating smile on the other end of the line.

Normally, whenever he received sudden, unexplained invitations from any of his associates, he either wouldn't arrive or would have entered from the back door and bashed their skulls in from behind. But, even though Torchwick managed to outdo Ozpin at the team choosing, he couldn't defy Ozpin directly lest he risk stepping straight into an electric chair.

This was an insult to him - maybe a tongue-in-cheek payback for the meeting - and Torchwick felt every bit of it. Begrudgingly, he put his scroll back into his pocket and began to set off towards whatever arbitrary task Ozpin had in store for him.

*X*

Torchwick stood in front of the door hesitantly.

He could hear two very high-pitched voices coming from the room on the other side. The pitch and tone of their voices told him that they were - probably - embroiled in an incredibly immature and annoying dispute; one in which they utilised all of their hormones and none of their compromise. It didn't really sound too bad of an argument to drop into - Torchwick had undoubtedly dropped his way into worse ones. Ones between highly influential criminal underground figures in which both sides were armed to the teeth and then some.

The actual problem was that he recognised both of the voices on the other side. After all, the last time he'd heard them, he'd been made late to a special occasion.

The memory of Ozpin's words flashed into the forefront of his mind.

 _"I've decided to take the matter of dealing with you and Miss Rose's patchy relationship into my own hands."_

He'd initially thought it meant that Ozpin would get Red off of his back for him - but, of course he wasn't about to make it that easy for Torchwick. Of course.

He wasn't eager to talk to them, no, but he was even _less_ eager to die; which, if he started directly defying Ozpin, was certainly not off of the table. With that macabre thought squatting front and centre in his mind, he stepped through into the room.

The annoying background noise ceased as the two children in the room turned to look at him. On the left was a familiar girl in a red cloak - Little Red. Her eyes were darting between him and the floor, and she was tapping her fingers together nervously; from the look on her face it was clear she wanted to be anywhere but here.

The girl on the other side of the room, however, was flashing him her best - and therefore most insincere - smile. The Schnee clearly wasn't used to smiling, because as soon as Torchwick turned away he caught her returning to a frigid scowl directed straight at Little Red across the sea of desks separating them.

Little Red responded to it by turning her silver eyes in the Schnee's direction, sighing, and then looking away dejectedly.

Torchwick raised an eyebrow.

 _Interesting._ The two seemed to have some kind of bad blood between them - unsurprising, given the things he'd heard from the pair before initiation, but still unexpected. As a Schnee, he thought she would have been too _mature_ for having petty squabbles with the plebeians - seeing her act so scornfully was honestly rather refreshing.

"So," he began, sitting down on a desk at the front of the room facing the two girls, "I take it you two landed yourself in trouble for that display in the courtyard?"

The Schnee looked like she'd just been shot in the stomach at point-blank range. Little Red bit her nails and looked at the floor with very obvious guilt reflected in her silver eyes. A moment of silence passed in which both of the girls seemed too afraid to say anything.

"... Yes." Red admitted, her shoulders slumping and her head hitting the desk.

The white-haired girl still didn't say anything.

"And you, Miss Schee? What are you doing here?" Torchwick asked. He had a few ideas, but it wouldn't hurt to confirm them.

"I apologise, professor." the Schnee stammered, "I've not made the best first impressions - I assure you, my intentions were good and -"

Torchwick waved her away dismissively and she went silent.

"I wanted to know what you were doing here, not for you to try and apologise." she winced visibly at that comment, and it was _incredibly_ satisfying - Torchwick nearly cackled with glee.

"I was put in detention for interfering in a fight I had no place in." her head hung low, in what would have been an exaggerated display of shame... Were it not for the fact that Torchwick could tell she actually felt guilty for it. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

So she'd actually gotten in trouble for that whole fiasco. It was unfair - and Torchwick _loved_ it. The real world was unfair, and Torchwick was pleasantly surprised to find out that a Schnee had learned that at Beacon Academy.

That said… While he'd have loved to let her wallow in her own despair, a _far_ more entertaining idea had long since presented itself to him. One that did _not_ involve this Schnee in detention.

"Who says you had no place in it?" Torchwick questioned, leaning back in his chair and masking the devilish glee in his tone.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly corrected the error.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stammered, before cringing slightly at her own lack of eloquence.

"I mean you interfered in a fellow student attacking a teacher without provocation," Torchwick didn't miss how much Little Red jumped slightly as he said that, "In other words, you helped me out. Since I've been placed in charge of this detention session, I think I'll actually give you a free pass out of here."

The girl clasped her hand to her mouth, no doubt stifling a gasp.

"Are you certain…?" it was barely a whisper.

Torchwick shrugged nonchalantly.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? Now get going."

"Y-yes!" she shouted, jumping out of her chair with one fist raised skyward; mirroring Torchwick's raised eyebrow. She blinked twice, then quickly readjusted her posture. "I mean - of course, professor." she curtsied quickly, and began to walk towards the door, shooting a smug look at the shriveling Miss Rose the entire way.

"Wait a moment, Miss Schnee."

The girl stopped dead in her tracks, and swiveled around to face him. The smug look on her face was gone, replaced by a desperate smile.

"Yes, Professor?" her voice was audibly strained.

Torchwick smiled.

"I have no doubt you'll be able to set the standard for the other huntsmen and huntresses here. Don't let this detention get you down."

She gasped slightly, with an ever-so-slightly starstruck expression on that normally stern face.

"Thank you, Professor." she said. She'd tried to hide it, but Torchwick could very clearly make out the swelling ego behind those words.

And then she was gone, leaving only silence and the cowering Little Red to keep Torchwick company. Which was precisely what Torchwick wanted.

Torchwick turned to her.

"Um…" she started fidgeting with the top of her cloak, still looking down at her desk, "Look, I… I'm…"

To call this girl's conversational skills poor would be an understatement. It was obvious she was trying to dance around the issue at hand - despite this, she kept stuttering and hesitating, much too scared to try and ask him about it up front. Torchwick honestly felt like slamming his head against the wall - hopefully the concussion would stop him from having to listen to this.

 _Was this seriously the girl who downed all of Junior's thugs without breaking a sweat?_

"Is this about that whole _dust robbery_ thing?" Torchwick asked bluntly.

She blinked twice, the rest of her body stuck in suspended animation.

"Uh - yes?"

Torchwick laughed. It wasn't real, of course. It served to break the ice - to make him easier to talk to.

"I assume you want an explanation for that, right?"

She paused for a moment, and then nodded furiously.

"Well, the purpose of the attack on the dust store wasn't _necessarily_ to steal Dust." he said, placing careful emphasis on the words he wanted to stick in her head. It wasn't really a lie - his employer, although her motives were still a mystery to him, clearly wanted to make some kind of statement. People didn't want to steal all the Dust in Vale just for some quick Lien.

When her eyes narrowed slightly, Torchwick immediately knew just how easy this was going to be.

"I've worked for Ozpin for a... _Decent_ amount of time now," he began, trying to draw her into eye contact - it made what he was saying all the more believable. The moment she took the bait and her eyes met his, he continued, "And he's shown very obvious interest in you. A showing like the one you did in Vale would only reaffirm his faith in your talents in the eyes of the other teachers, don't you think?"

The girl's eyes widened, 'realisation' beginning to dawn on her face. He had her right where he wanted her.

"Y-you don't mean…?" she asked, eyes now as wide as saucers and an astonishingly dopey grin on her face.

"Yes. I do." Torchwick answered. He'd let her draw her own conclusions - people were more likely to believe what they wanted to believe as opposed to what you told them was the truth.

Suddenly, the guilt came back to her with all the force of a falling boulder on her shoulders. At least, that's what Torchwick thought if the way she suddenly gasped and held her head in her hands was any indication.

"Oh - Ohmigosh! I'm so sorry! I didn't realise and I -"

Torchwick shrugged his shoulders, quickly silencing her. The guilt still lingered, but it was clear she was relieved that she hadn't actually seriously offended him.

"Please. Water under the bridge - I can handle myself." he said, "But… I have to say, I'm surprised you didn't end up injured in the fight with that Schnee girl."

This was a blatant lie - this girl could handle herself; he'd seen as much firsthand. Not like it mattered much to Little Red now - she trusted him enough for it to not make a difference.

"What? Weiss? No!" she exclaimed, waving her hands in front of her as if to try and banish the very thought, "She's mean, but I don't think she'd let me get _hurt_."

"I don't know about that - she seemed _very_ angry at you." Torchwick replied.

"Well - she, uh -" Ruby glanced around the room, evidently trying to find some way to sugarcoat what she was about to say. When she realised there wasn't one to be found, her shoulders drooped. "She really doesn't like me." she muttered.

"I might be able to offer some advice."

"R-really?" her eyes were sparkling with hope. It was _extremely_ tempting to dismiss her immediately, but Torchwick had a better plan in mind. One he wasn't willing to let go of just for some quick entertainment.

"Of course!" Torchwick put on his most genuine-looking fake smile.

Her eyes went from sparkling to lighting up, and she jumped to her feet, dashing directly in front of him in a blur of rose petals.

"Oh, thankyou thankyou thankyou!" she looked like she was resisting the urge to tackle him with a hug. Little Red looked little, and acted the part - talking to her was like talking to a highly dangerous three-year-old with just as much energy, "So, what should I do?"

"Well, kiddo," Torchwick began, "I think the issue with the two of you is that she sees you as an inferior - I'd say you should try and do something that would genuinely earn her respect. Like…"

"Like what?"

"When's your next class with Miss Goodwitch?"

Ruby hummed in thought for a second.

"I'm pretty sure it's tomorrow."

"In that case, why don't you try and have a match with Miss Schnee the next time you have an opportunity? Showing off your abilities in a fight might get her to consider you an equal, win or lose."

She smiled so widely Torchwick thought for a moment her cheeks might split right open.

"You're right - you're absolutely right, Professor!" she squealed. Honestly, this kid and the Schnee were about as different as the sun and moon - it really was no wonder they didn't get along.

"No problem, kid." he said, with that very same fake smile on his face - the smile people _trusted_ ; the one that took their eyes away from the hand dipped straight into their wallet. "Now, I don't want to be in this detention any more than you do. How about you leave and go back to your teammates?"

A red flash, a slamming door, a rush of rose-petal filled air and a lingering "Thankyou!", and the girl was out of the room.

She was certainly chipper - it was impressive just how much the prospect of settling her issues cheered her up from the awkward mess she was before. Torchwick wondered why she was even so eager to make up with the Schnee. The girl seemed to despise Red, and knowing the Schnees her frosty attitude would probably render all attempts to befriend her worthless. Perhaps Red was just one of those infuriating, shallow types who always wanted to have everyone live in a perfect world filled with rainbows and sugar plums to cover up their own horrible insecurities.

If she was, it would only make it all the more rewarding to see the relationship between her and the princess grow even worse - at least, if everything went to plan.

He was going to have to make his way to Glynda's lesson tomorrow. He wouldn't want to miss it for the world. 

* * *

**Review Responses:**

 **Sire Bombarigus Manlius DCCLXXXIX: It pleases me no end to receive notice of your high hopes for this humble work of fanfiction. It might surprise you to hear that the whole debacle that occurred between ladies Yang, Pyrrha, and Ruby was actually unplanned - the initial draw between teams WNNR and ABRY was actually Ren and Nora talking to Yang and Ruby.**

 **Blake _shall_ return, do not worry! Just... Not yet.**

 **Engineer: I don't really know if Nora's the type to try and drive Weiss crazy herself - for instance, for all her talk of breaking Cardin's legs, she doesn't actually go and do it herself. I hope the resolution to Ruby and Torchwick's problem was good enough for you - Ozpin has a strange way of doing things.**

 **General Response: I'm glad to see the positive reception Pyrrha has received. A lot of fics have sort of started glossing over the glaring flaws in her character when they write her in (either that or relegating her to minor roles) and as a result I'm kind of determined to bring a fresh new outlook on her now that I wrote in that scene. So... Expect to see her a pretty good amount, probably.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Being hit by that truckload of work actually resulted in my death - I was buried under a pile of exams. Anyways, now I have risen from the grave and am back with the 11th chapter of Lawbreaker to Lecturer!**

 **So, there will probably be a decent jump in general quality from here on out, since my editor's finally back - we've been brainstorming and have managed to figure out a huge chunk of the immediate plot. Things may change and progress, but right now we've got a pretty clear idea of where we want to take this in mind.**

 **Anyways, this chapter is super action-heavy. Hope you enjoy, and as always, review responses shall be at the bottom of the page.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

This was nerve-racking. Ruby had tried to psyche herself up for it as much as possible before diving in. She'd received nothing but encouragement from her teammates when she gave them the plan. Professor Torchwick believed in her, too! So…

Why was this so darn difficult? Why couldn't she just _knock_ on this stupid door?

All she had to do was go in and tell the Ice Queen that she wanted to have a match in Glynda's sparring class. Hopefully, she'd say yes, and then Ruby could fight her in an epic battle, with heart-racing stakes and incredible displays of talent and skill on both sides! And then, when Ruby stood victorious, Weiss would finally stop calling her a kid and glaring at her! The plan was _perfect_. Now all she had to do was go in and tell her in advance about it.

Talk to her… Face to face.

Ruby held back a groan. Would anyone blame her for not really wanting to talk to the girl? The closest thing to a friendly chat they'd ever had since their scuffle was Weiss boring into her with an ice-cold stare; one that she could only nervously glance back at. Talking to her was like talking to a really _cold_ brick wall - kinda like a glacier.

But, if she sat here all scared forever, then she'd miss a chance to make up with Weiss.

She steeled herself, and stepped towards the door. Even if it seemed to grow in size, and loom over her in a spectacularly creepy fashion.

She raised her hand, ready to strike the door.

 _Come on, Ruby. You can do this._

"Oh, hello Ruby!"

The door had already opened, and Pyrrha was standing on the other side, smiling cheerfully.

Ruby's cheeks went bright red, and she coughed a little. Pyrrha raising her eyebrow only made it worse.

"Uh, sorry, I just wanted to come and visit your dorm to talk about something -"

Pyrrha's smile suddenly began to look a whole lot more nervous, and Ruby could've sworn she was sweating a little.

"I'm sorry, Ruby, but I don't really think it's a good time -"

A loud scream of what was probably fury erupted from deep within the dorm, one which probably could've torn Ruby's ears right off if it weren't for her aura. Pyrrha flinched, and turned nervously to the inside of her room once again.

"What on Remnant do you think you're _doing!?_ " cried the very annoyed sounding voice of the Ice Queen.

"Decorating~!" giggled a much more upbeat voice; the same one that had stopped Ruby from reaching sleep on the night before initiation.

Ruby's eyes narrowed.

"... What's going on in there?" she asked. When she tried to lean around to see for herself, Pyrrha jumped in front of her line of sight, vetoing any of her attempts immediately.

"Please, it's nothing worth worrying about-"

"Schnee Dust Company produce is _not_ to be used as _glitter!_ Are you _trying_ to cause an explosion!?" Weiss's cry echoed through the hall, probably reaching the ears of more than just Ruby. Pyrrha let out a slow, nervous laugh.

"... It wasn't that much." Pyrrha whispered nervously. Ruby may not have been good at reading social cues, but even she could tell that that was a lie.

"Come on, Ice Queen! It wasn't _that_ much!" Nora responded rather conveniently.

"If that had detonated, you would have blown this entire hall out of the stratosphere!"

Pyrrha's shoulders stiffened, and the normally lithe champion almost looked like a plank of wood. Ruby felt a wave of slight nausea.

The _entire_ hall? How much dust was Weiss even carrying around?

Pyrrha bit her lip, and her glances back into the dorm room became even more frantic.

"Did she just say -"

"Don't worry! It's not important at all." Pyrrha blurted out, maybe a little _too_ quickly.

Ruby rubbed the back of her head and giggled nervously. It could be a good idea to be a little more careful in the hallways from now on - just in case.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?" Pyrrha blurted out, maybe a little too quickly. "If you needed to talk to anyone else, I'm sure I could pass on whatever you have to say."

"I think it's better if I ask this in person -"

"Well, I might be able to get Ren for you, but I'm not sure Nora will be available for a while." she said, with a polite smile and a weak chuckle.

It looked like there wasn't any more room to beat around the bush.

"Actually, I wanted to talk with Weiss."

Pyrrha went completely silent.

She blinked once, and then twice.

Ruby winced a little. Was wanting to talk to Weiss that weird?

"Are… Are you sure? What _for?_ " she asked, looking oddly bewildered. The expression really didn't seem to fit her face - it put Ruby slightly on edge, something she _really_ didn't need if she had to speak to the Ice Queen of all people.

"Uh, I wanted to ask her to have a spar with me in combat class."

Pyrrha's face went blank, and then suddenly returned to a slight smile. She turned around, and then strode down the short hallway, closing the door gently behind her.

Ruby could hear a few hurried whispers from the dorm room, and then footsteps. Coming right toward the door.

It opened, and Ruby was now face to face with Weiss. If Ruby had to use one word to describe her right now, it would probably be _'unimpressed'_ \- one eyebrow was arched in the air expectantly, her eyes half-lidded in annoyance, complete with folded arms and one foot tapping against the floor.

"Well?" she asked.

"Um…" Ruby slowly began to fidget with her cloak nervously.

"If you've nothing to say, then don't waste my time." the speed of her foot tapping increased, and Ruby cursed herself once again for her inability to talk to people properly.

"Well, I was thinking that maybe in Professor Goodwitch's first lesson, we could have a spar!" she stammered, her voice cracking way more than she wanted it to.

The foot tapping stopped completely. Weiss hummed in thought for a moment.

"Alright." she said, bluntly, "I'll join you."

Ruby was taken aback for a moment.

"Um… Thanks?" she replied, the words falling out of her mouth before her brain could properly sift through them.

"Just remember to show up." she answered, and then quickly stepped back into her dorm room. Ruby could hear shouting inside once again. Something about 'deplorable?'

Well… That'd been easier than she'd thought it would be. Weiss was still being mean and cold, but it was progress.

Come tomorrow, and she'd be smiling and talking with Weiss like the best of them!

… Maybe. But it was worth a shot.

*X*

Weiss watched as the last particles of Dust were scraped off of the wall by her irritating teammate - laughing away all the while. Honestly, Weiss found Miss Valkyrie's endless enthusiasm admirable, but when it was never applied to anything other than giving her leader a migraine, it quickly transformed from admirable into annoying. Frustratingly, Ren refused to properly chastise her for her misbehaviour - given that he was the only person Valkyrie ever seemed to listen to, it certainly would've made Weiss' job as leader a lot easier if he actually bothered to take the strong stance against his partner.

Even worse was the way Pyrrha Nikos had to watch this mess unfold. She tried to hide it behind polite smiles, but Weiss could sense the disappointment the champion felt with her teammates nonetheless. It couldn't be helped if Miss Nikos didn't yet see the potential that the other half of their team held - she was no doubt used to fraternising with only the best of the best.

All the more reason for Weiss to push onward in whipping Ren and Miss Valkyrie into shape.

 _"I have no doubt you'll be able to set the standard for the other huntsmen and huntresses here. Don't let this detention get you down."_

That was what Professor Torchwick had said. He had expectations for her too, and with the way he'd let her out of the punishment for interfering with his job, and on her honour as a Schnee, she wanted to live up to them.

With that offer Miss Rose had extended, it appeared she would have an opportunity to do so before long.

She would duel her, and emerge victorious, and in doing so teach her what defeat felt like - it was, given the girl's lack of humility, something Weiss doubted the girl was used to experiencing - and in doing so help the girl mature.

A display like that might even help Weiss earn the respect of her team. The very thought of it made her grin victoriously.

The following day, Miss Rose would look up to and respect her.

… Perhaps. But it would certainly be worth the effort.

*X*

Glynda goodwitch stared out through the auditorium as the last of the new students filtered through the doorway and into their seats. She'd seen them at initiation this year, and she had to admit - this year group was rather special. Team WNNR certainly seemed promising, and outside of their leader Team ABRY was filled with a great deal of talent. Even Team CRDL didn't seem too shabby compared to some of the other teams that had managed to make it through initiation.

"So, you gonna incorporate any of my tricks into your teaching style? There's nothing wrong with emulating your betters, you know." the snarky drone of Beacon's new Economics teacher oozed from beside her.

 _… Why was he even here?_

"I'm a professional, Torchwick, so I'm afraid not." she replied coolly.

Sadly, it was probably better he was in here than out on the school premises doing goodness knows what. Whenever she couldn't tell what he was actually up to, she began to grow uncharacteristically fretful: under normal circumstances, Glynda Goodwitch wouldn't need to worry. She would always have _everything_ under control.

But with Torchwick? She didn't seem to affect him in the slightest. The usual stern glares, whips of the crop, or the occasional eyebrow raise that would normally have even the most rancorous students on their hands and knees instead made Torchwick laugh at _best_ , and at _worst_ he'd just ignore her completely. If even _she_ couldn't get him under control, and Ozpin was oftentimes too busy with his primary occupation to help rein him in, then what might he get up to when she wasn't looking?

She knew he couldn't just be spending all of his time inspecting the school premises. He _had_ to be up to something.

An annoying clicking sound brought her back to her senses, and her eyes round to Torchwick's grinning face.

"What _is_ it, Torchwick?" she asked, her voice a little more sharp than intended.

"I don't know if you realised, Purple, but your lesson just started."

Glynda glanced up at the clock, which read 9:00 AM, to Torchwick, who had an infuriating grin affixed to his face, and then to the rows of expectant looking students.

She cleared her throat.

"Pardon. Welcome, one and all, to combat class. My name, as you probably all know, is Professor Goodwitch, and I'll be your instructor here for the following four years at Beacon."

A hand went up near the back.

Who was this again? It was one of the people who had arrived a little later, and taken a black rook piece...

"Yes, Mister Noir?"

"Is Professor Torchwick gonna be helping with these lessons?"

Glynda's eye twitched. Torchwick's grin widened.

"No." she replied, as politely as one possibly could while gritting their teeth together. The Noir boy recoiled in noticeable fear.

Good. It was nice to see people afraid of her. That was the way it was supposed to be.

"Is there anyone with a question actually related to combat?" she asked the crowd.

A single, gauntleted hand rose into the air.

"Yes, Miss Xiao-Long?"

"Would it be cool if I went first and fought Pyrrha?" she requested casually, a goofy smile on her face.

Well, confidence was certainly something you couldn't fault the Xiao-Long girl for. Her sister pouted, and gave her a jab with her elbow - that the blonde shrugged off almost completely.

It was followed by a small cry of "No fair, sis!"

Most people entirely missed the exchange, given that now almost every single person in the room was staring at the Mistralian athlete.

"I suppose, if Miss Nikos doesn't have any issues with it." Glynda remarked.

"I don't mind." she replied, with a slight smile on her face, "As a matter of fact, I'd love to."

The two quickly descended to the centre of the auditorium, and turned to their teacher.

"Before we can begin, I will cover the rules of this combat session. Combat is to be kept within the arena at all times; if you are knocked out, it will be considered a ring out, and the opponent's victory -"

Torchwick yawned just quietly enough for the students not to notice, but just loudly enough to irritate her.

"And if you are knocked to 15% of your total Aura capacity, the fight will be over immediately to prevent any injuries, as per tournament rulesets. Do you understand?"

Both girls nodded. Torchwick looked like he was about to make another remark, but she dug her heel into his toe before he could irritate her any further. She needed to focus on this match - not be distracted by his stupid comments.

"Then, without further ado, you may begin."

The two fell into their combat stances - Miss Nikos with her shield held before her, and sword poised to strike at any moment, Miss Xiao-Long with her her fists. Shortly, they began to circle one another, probing each others' weak points with practised ease.

Well, practised ease for a pair of students who'd just entered Beacon. Glynda was almost certain that these two wouldn't stand a chance against any of the Beacon faculty.

… Except maybe Peaches.

*X*

Yang Xiao-Long wasn't like most opponents. Pyrrha could tell that much from the first few blows they traded.

A fist flew towards her face - she brought up Akouo to block it, then flipped out of the way of the shotgun blast that came from the girl's off hand. She took the opportunity to rake Milo across her waist, bringing a generous chunk of her opponent's Aura with her.

Not enough to win. Not yet.

Pyrrha landed gracefully, and swivelled around, returning her gaze directly to her adversary.

Yang grinned straight back at her, whistling appreciatively - seemingly unaffected by the extra tenth of her Aura that was now missing. Then, with a loud boom and a flash from her gauntlets, she surged across the arena - directly towards her.

She was more than prepared for it.

Pyrrha jumped aside, just as dust and blonde locks flew past her, releasing a gust of air that made Pyrrha's crimson hair flutter. Her opponent's strength was exceptional - possibly greater than Pyrrha's own.

Which meant, if she let the blonde go on the offensive forever, she'd eventually lose.

Pyrrha dashed towards her opponent before she could recover. The telltale bark of gunfire rang out from her direction, and she raised her shield before her eyes to deflect the blasts of fire that her enemy shot outwards.

When Pyrrha came too close, the blonde would likely begin to attack with her fists again - she would be able to react accordingly by batting her attacks aside with Akouo, then striking. On the off chance she tried to create more distance between them, Pyrrha could easily outshoot her with Milo in rifle form, and win the war of attrition.

Nothing too out of the ordinary.

She closed in, preparing for the hail of punches to strike the surface of her shield, only to recoil in surprise when she felt the blonde _grip_ the top of it with her hand. She tried to knock it aside with the butt of her sword -

And Yang used the shield to vault directly over the champion's head. Pyrrha attempted to block the incoming attack from above with Akouo, but wasn't quick enough.

It seemed this attack would hit her directly.

Pyrrha heard the audience gasp as the strike missed Pyrrha's skull by a fraction of an inch. Not the most subtle use of her Semblance… But it would have to do.

Yang landed behind her with a thud. The blonde was clenching and unclenching her hand, in what was probably shock - Pyrrha couldn't blame her; if she'd missed that uncharacteristically she would've been surprised as well. After all, Yang had no idea about Pyrrha's Semblance.

With a click of her tongue, her opponent locked eyes with her once more. The grin was gone this time, and for a moment her eyes flashed red.

Then, her hair began to glow, and erupt into a burst of golden fire.

Her smile returned in full force as she went straight for Pyrrha again. Pyrrha sidestepped once more, only for Yang to change course in midair instantly using the kickback from her gauntlets.

The blonde sped toward her, and her fist smashed straight into Akouo with a metallic crash, a blast of Dust ammunition, and limb-shattering force. Her Aura flexed, and Pyrrha grit her teeth and dug her heels into the ground to prevent herself from being sent flying backwards by the sheer force of the impact.

Yang didn't give her the room to regain her composure - a golden streak flew towards her, fist reared back for another shattering blow.

This time, she knew better than to try and block it.

She waited until the last moment, and then ducked beneath her, jabbing Akouo upward and straight into Yang's midriff - she quickly turned in midair and pushed off of it once more, in an attempt to create more distance between the two of them.

Pyrrha wasn't about to let that happen. She dashed forward to the point at which Yang hit the ground, and threw Akouo forward - Yang crossed her arms to block it.

The perfect opportunity.

Pyrrha rushed in, brandishing Milo, and slashed horizontally, cutting straight through Yang's Aura and recovering her shield along the way. The blonde winced from the pain, but quickly recuperated and responded with another punch; Pyrrha deflected it with her shield, of course, but this one hit twice as hard as the last. Pyrrha's arm, for a moment, felt like it might have snapped off if not for her Aura protecting her.

Yang didn't relent. She came in for an uppercut that would've sent Pyrrha reeling…

… If not for a quick use of her Semblance. She tried to disguise it as a well placed dodge, as always, but the pain flaring through her arm made it hard to coordinate - the dodge was sloppy, and anyone could tell at a glance that the blow should've hit Pyrrha.

But, Yang only struck air, her gauntlet firing toward the ceiling in what seemed like an empty echo to the hit Pyrrha cheated her of.

Yang took another look at her gauntlet, and frowned, her eyes turning red once more. She shook her head, her eyes returning to their usual lilac, but the frown remained.

She went in for a flurry of blows, a series of jabs and hooks and uppercuts; one which Pyrrha returned with stabs and thrusts and parries - and with each hit Pyrrha scored, Yang's attacks only grew faster and stronger.

And, as progressively more of Yang's attacks began to slip through her guard, of which even the slightest touch would send Pyrrha flying, she found herself using her Semblance to try and cover for her own mistakes all the more often.

She grimaced as Yang's fist arched across her field of vision, just barely missing her nose. She could feel her Aura ripple from the shockwave the attack created - she dreaded what might have happened had it actually _hit_ her.

If not for her discreetly forcing her gauntlets away, that could have taken out a good fifth of her Aura in a single blow.

Yang growled slightly, and with a roar, she drove her gauntleted hand straight toward Pyrrha's face. Pyrrha reflexively activated her semblance - the attack could've easily knocked out more than half of her reserves even _if_ she blocked it - and was stunned.

Her fist didn't stop. Or even slow down. It kept going forward, even as Pyrrha amplified the effects of her Polarity.

As if pushed by some invisible hand, Pyrrha staggered backwards from the repulsion of her own Semblance, struggling to regain her footing even as Yang surged toward her, grinning once again, and planted a kick directly into Pyrrha's waist.

The air was blasted from her instantly, and she was sent spinning across the ring. A single glance toward the board revealed she'd lost around twenty five percent of her Aura. She was in the yellow zone, just below the halfway mark, and Yang had only hit her _twice_.

A chuckle pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to Yang. She was smiling, and the intense anger and frustration in her eyes was gone, replaced with a look of clarity that sent Pyrrha's nerves reeling.

A pit opened in her stomach as she realised that Yang's gauntlets had morphed back into bracelet form, and she was slowly slipping them off.

"Miss Xiao-Long? Why are you removing your weapons in the midst of a fight?" Professor Goodwitch's stern voice broke the thick tension in the air, and Yang laughed.

"Well, Professor Goodwitch, they were feeling kinda _unlucky_ today." she joked.

Glynda raised an eyebrow, but made no further comment - even as Yang carelessly tossed both bracelets completely outside of the ring.

Pyrrha burst out into laughter, the nerves suddenly all but forgotten.

As she re-entered her combat stance, a defiant grin found its way onto her face. She realised, with a sense of long-forgotten elation, that this was the first time in what felt like years that she'd felt threatened. She was in a fight in which victory was uncertain.

One where, if she wanted to win, she'd have to give it her all.

Yang made the first move.

She sprinted across the arena, and immediately went for a jab toward Pyrrha's chest - Pyrrha quickly thrust her shield forward to block it, but Yang's widening grin made Pyrrha realise that her shield was exactly what Yang was aiming for.

She struck Akouo with full force, and Pyrrha felt the pain reverberate throughout her body.

Notably, her punches hurt less when there wasn't a shotgun blast attached.

Although… They were somehow even _faster_ than before.

She moved in for another attack on the shield, and Pyrrha held fast, but a third one was able to knock the shield aside completely. Yang instantly went for an uppercut, but Pyrrha was ready this time - she swept Yang's legs out from under her with a low kick, and delivered a cut across her upper body.

Yang quickly readjusted, landing on her hands and then flipping backward, coming back to her feet to face Pyrrha.

Pyrrha smiled wider, and Yang mirrored the gesture.

Her grip around Milo tightened, and all that remained of her Aura flared up with a glow of radiant scarlet.

Yang held out her arms in front of her, eyes turning crimson, and her hair erupted into a torrent of golden fire.

A moment of mutual understanding passed between the two of them: their intent clear, they rushed towards each other. Pyrrha leaped into the air and brought her sword down from above, light glinting off of its bronze edge, with Yang rushing to meet it, her bare fist reared back, clothed in flame.

 _"Stop!"_

The moment was broken immediately as a purple glyph materialised between them, and they hit it with a painful crunch. Yang fell to the floor, limbs sprawled out over the floor, panting heavily but grinning maniacally all the while. Pyrrha dropped to her hands and knees, barely managing to stop herself from ending up just like Yang.

"While I admire your enthusiasm," Professor Goodwitch remarked, "I would advise you both to pay more attention to your Aura capacity while in battle."

She pointed her crop the their left, drawing the pair's attention to the board.

"With techniques like those you employed, you would likely have seriously wounded your opponent. While this would obviously be the intent in a life-or-death situation, this is a tournament scenario, with tournament rulesets." she adjusted her glasses, "If you'd done that in an event like the Vytal festival…" She cracked her crop against the nearest chair for effect, making both Yang and Pyrrha wince, "... You would have been immediately disqualified. That said, that was an excellent battle. I would advise you both to keep up the good work."

As Pyrrha looked up at the board, she tuned Goodwitch out completely. Just beneath their names, in clean, glowing white letters, were two numbers that had her almost spellbound.

 _Yang Xiao-Long: 14%_

 _Pyrrha Nikos: 16%_

Suddenly, she was laughing again - and even when the fatigue and aches hit her seemingly all at once, all too quickly, she couldn't stop.

It was incredibly close - but, by a hair's breadth, Pyrrha Nikos had remained in the yellow zone.

In other words, she'd _won_.

She walked over to where Yang lay spreadeagled on the floor. She bent down, smiling, and offered the blonde her hand.

"Looks like… Another victory… For the Invincible Girl, huh?" she panted, letting out small chuckles between every single breath she took.

Although she probably would've been annoyed at anyone else using the media-given nickname, Pyrrha simply giggled.

"I suppose."

Yang took the champion's hand, and Pyrrha quickly lifted her to her feet.

"So, I hope you're ready, Pyrrha," Yang said, leaning on her knees and having finally recovered her breath, "Because next time we do this, I'm going to cream you."

Somehow, that prospect only made Pyrrha smile.

"I'll look forward to it."

She wasn't lying.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **TheSetupMage: Splitting apart Renora is more difficult than trying to split the nucleus of an atom with your bare hands... That said, Torchwick has done some rather impressive things thus far. All I can say for now is wait and see.**

 **Nerd315: I've actually always intended to include some insight into that. Look forward to it!**

 **Bomberguy: Astute observations there. I'm afraid to say that's all I can tell you until the next chapter's out.**

 **General Response: It's nice to see people taking Torchwick teaching (heh try saying that three times fast) so well! I was super freaked out about that chapter not being well recieved; it was one of the most rewritten ones of _any_ of the chapters thus far. I feel like I say this a lot, but you all are great!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Still alive! I'm planning on updating on Sundays.**

 **So... We've hit over 100 favourites and are nearing 200 followers with 82 reviews! I have to say, I'm currently gushing like a waterfall about this - you guys are seriously awesome. I'm so happy to see how well received this is becoming, and how you guys have put up with my... _Erratic_ upload schedule.**

 **As always, review responses at the end of the chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

Everyone's jaws hung open as the two girls walked back up to their peers. Not a soul spoke - some, like Miss Rose, weren't even breathing.

Weiss coughed, and straightened her back - it seemed it had slumped forward while watching Miss Nikos and Miss Xiao-Long's battle.

She shouldn't have been losing her composure at a sight like them embroiled in an intense, heart-pounding fight. She shuddered at the thought of Winter seeing her like that - a Schnee could _not_ be seen in _awe_ of someone else. The Schnee was supposed to _command_ the awe of those around them!

… Even if Miss Nikos had looked _awesome_ when dodging Miss Xiao-Long's attacks.

She shook her head, and dispelled such thoughts from her mind. She had to focus, after all. If all went well, she'd be next in line.

Watching as the pair arduously heaved themselves back up to their seats, Weiss moved to try and congratulate Miss Nikos on her victory. It was what was expected of a leader, after - to support and encourage their teammates when they succeeded just as much as they admonished failure.

She was prevented from doing so, however, as an annoyance cloaked in red quickly tackled her sister and the Mistralian champion.

" _Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, ohmigosh -_ Yang! Pyrrha! That was so _cool!"_ she squealed.

The three smashed into the ground like a dysfunctional Bullhead.

"Of _course_ it was, Rubes. What did you expect?" replied Xiao-Long.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Ruby." said Pyrrha.

Wait… Since when was Miss Rose on first name terms with Miss Nikos?

"There was that bit where you…" From there, her words dissolved into unintelligible, frantic garble while she kept her sister and Miss Nikos pinned to the floor.

Weiss bristled a little. How _dare_ she act so disrespectfully to _her_ teammate and the four-time winner of the Mistral Regional Tournament? It made her look forward to teaching her some respect all the more.

She strode up to them, a scowl on her face.

"Would you get up off of the floor, you _dolt?_ We have a match next, if you haven't forgotten."

The caped cretin jumped as if electrified, and swiveled around to face her, shoulders tensed and hands shaking.

"Hey, Ice Que - I mean, Weiss!" she brushed herself off as she spoke to Weiss, "Don't worry! I haven't forgotten one _bit!_ "

She sounded… Almost _too_ pleased. It was almost as if she thought this was some kind of _joke._ Weiss raised her eyebrow, and was prepared to say more, but a voice from the auditorium halted her.

"Alright! Now that the previous match is over with, I'd like to ask." Professor Goodwitch's voice boomed, having returned to her position in the center of the room, "Are there any among you who would like to volunteer for the next battle? If not, then two of you shall be selected at random."

She adjusted her glasses.

"No ifs, buts _or_ maybes."

She was met with complete silence. Everyone seemed rooted to the spot, too afraid to speak up or volunteer - and Weiss could easily see why. The match between Miss Nikos and Xiao-Long had been quite the spectacle, and many had been intimidated by the sheer _skill_ they'd put on display. Not everyone could match up to that kind of standard.

Well, it wasn't as if that affected her.

Two hands rose almost simultaneously. Glynda hesitated for a moment, before choosing one.

"Miss Rose, you may enter the auditorium." she gestured, as Ruby quickly jumped into the arena, "And as for her opponent?" she finished, looking once more at the crowd of students.

Weiss rolled her eyes as her hand remained in the air.

"Very well. Miss Schnee it is."

She stepped down into the arena gracefully, and stood face to face with her foe.

Miss Rose was grinning, quivering on the spot with excitement. She was holding her weapon in its fully transformed state, with the wickedly curved blade held out above her head, ready to slash through the air at a moment's notice. It was clear she was looking forward to this - Weiss wagered she'd probably go out the moment the fight began.

Weiss returned the expression with poise, and grace; one foot behind the other and her lips drawn in a thin line so as to mask any of her intent. She drew her rapier and held it out before her, prepared for an attack from any angle. The last time she and Miss Rose had crossed swords, she had been primarily on the defensive - forced to make walls to cordon off the red-cloaked girl's attacks.

There was no reason to assume this wouldn't play out exactly the same.

"I do hope you remember the tournament rulesets I outlined in the previous bouts. If not, say so now." Glynda's voice bit into them both like needles - Weiss winced a little, and nodded.

"Then, without further ado, you may begin."

Almost instantly, a cloud of rose petals appeared in the place where Weiss had been observing her adversary moments before.

Weiss tried to follow her movements to no avail, and bit her lip as a bullet whizzed just past her head, grazing her Aura.

It seemed like she'd jumped to conclusions - Ruby had decided to jump to the far end of the arena and was now firing off a barrage of dust rounds. Another bullet flew past Weiss, displacing a few hairs from her ponytail as she ducked under it.

Well, two could play at this game.

Myrtenaster's barrel clicked as it spun towards her desired chamber.

She plunged the sword into the ground, and a wall of ice shot outwards and towards her opponent.

The girl dodged aside before she could be trapped, but was quickly stopped in her tracks by another sprouting to her right. She was trapped.

Weiss smiled and jumped into the air - pushing off of a quickly materialised glyph - and flew towards Miss Rose.

The girl tried to dodge out of the way once more.

Unfortunately for Miss Rose, her movements were hindered by the hitherto unseen black glyph on the floor beneath her. Weiss smiled, and stabbed her thrice with Myrtenaster. The girl cried out, and tried to retaliate with her scythe, but Weiss had already dashed back. She rushed in once more, delivering a single thrust to the centre of her body and gouging a large chunk out of her Aura - and then jumped back.

As she soared through the air, she allowed a smirk to worm its way onto her lips. It served Miss Rose right for underestimating her.

The girl was currently narrowing her eyes, looking at Weiss with her eyebrow scrunched up in thought. It looked like she was formulating some kind of plan.

Hmph. As if Weiss would give her the opportunity.

She pushed back off of a glyph, with her rapier poised to finish the match. The barrel clicked and spun, and the Dust-conducting indentations on the sword glowed white. She descended upon her opponent at breakneck speed - faster than she could possibly dodge with her movement hindered by the black glyph.

Miss Rose's frown vanished, replaced by a wide smile.

She didn't even try to escape the glyph, instead bringing her scythe forward and hooking it around Weiss's midriff.

What, was she _stupid?_ It wasn't going to do anything to halt Weiss's momentum - if anything, it would only bring her _closer!_

Well, if she _wanted_ to lose, it was most certainly _not_ Weiss's issue.

And then, the point of Myrtenaster pierced Miss Rose -

Wait, it didn't. She was flying across the arena, past Miss Rose and towards the wall. The red-cloaked _dolt_ had flickered in and out of her vision in a flourish of red petals, too quickly for her to see, then redirected her momentum and used it to fling her across the arena. A single look at the board confirmed that she hadn't even lost a single percent of her Aura from it.

Weiss smiled. Was this some form of attempt to create distance between them?

 _You underestimate me, Miss Rose._

She quickly pushed off of a glyph in midair, and soared back into the arena. She readied herself to strike again - she was certainly not about to fall for the same trick _twice._ Her hair fluttered as the air rushed past her, and her target drew nearer once more.

Miss Rose, instead of readying her weapon, or entering any sort of combat stance at all, threw her arms up in the air and grinned almost stupidly.

"I won!" she laughed.

 _What?_

"Match over!" announced the voice of Professor Goodwitch, "Miss Rose wins by ring out."

 _W-what?_

With the aid of a glyph, Weiss ground to a halt almost instantly, and dropped to the floor beneath.

 _How?_

Wait. That was it. It had to have been. She looked back behind her foot, seeing the red line that the caped dolt had launched her over without her even noticing.

The red line that, if passed, resulted in an instant loss. And she'd sat back and done _nothing_ as she passed by it.

Her teeth grit together, and every nerve and sinew in her body stiffened.

How - how could she have been so _stupid!?_ How had she gone and let Miss Rose get away with that ridiculous plan?

Weiss Schnee? Losing by ring out? How could she have let herself _down_ like that?

"Miss Schnee, in future you must be sure to maintain awareness of everything around you at _all_ times. In any real world combat scenario, maintaining focus on the enemy is paramount - but you cannot lose sight of your surroundings. You will likely find yourself backed into a corner you cannot escape from if you do." remarked Professor Goodwitch, "And many a huntsman has lost their life because of just that."

She heard the words, but they didn't quite reach her.

Weiss scowled, and gripped the edge of her skirt. She'd failed. She'd failed herself, and the expectations set for her with this blunder. She'd let herself be outwitted by this red-hooded _buffoon_ in a match she should have been able to _easily_ win!

What would Winter think, when she heard of this? Would she still approve of her?

What would her father say? Would he still let her be a huntress?

Her memory flew back to the words said to her in that detention.

Would Professor Torchwick still think as highly of her? Would he be angry? Or worse, _disappointed?_

Her eyes darted up to the area of the room he was sat at. He was leaning forward on the railing, a mellow grin sat on his face as he watched Professor Goodwitch finish lecturing Miss Rose on how not all fights could be won through the path of least resistance. Clearly, he wasn't about to give any of his true feelings away yet, but she couldn't help but feel a creeping dread gnaw at her.

Her teeth clenched around her lip impulsively.

"Alright, class! I think that will be all for today. I _hope,"_ not a soul missed the crack of the crop that followed Glynda's words, "That you learned something from these bouts, and will take what you have learned into account by the next lesson. Class dismissed!"

The rest of the students filed out, followed shortly by Miss Goodwitch - who looked to be in quite the hurry.

Which left Weiss alone in the classroom, knees on the arena floor. Humiliated.

She turned to the nervous approach of footsteps coming from behind her, her eyes meeting the silver of Miss Rose's.

"Um, good match!" the girl said, rubbing the back of her neck, "So, uh, I guess I'm not such a kid after all, huh?"

Weiss looked further down, and realised the girl was outstretching a hand to help lift her up.

Was… Was this _dolt_ trying to _mock_ her? Weiss hadn't even lost a single point of Aura, and the girl in red wanted to try and help her as if she'd been _hurt?_

"Not such a _kid_ , hm?" Weiss seethed, "Whatever do you mean?"

The dolt went silent, and completely still. Weiss rose to her feet, and glared directly into her eyes.

"Well - I - um…"

"You're boorish, inarticulate and ignorant. All qualities of a child, correct?"

Weiss's face twisted into a sneer - the better parts of her screamed at her to stop, reminding her that she was a Schnee, and had an image to maintain, and she snuffed them out.

The girl bit her lip.

"... Why…?"

"Why _what?"_ Weiss growled in response.

"Why are you such… An _ice queen?"_

Weiss laughed bitterly.

"It's called being an _adult._ Not an _ice queen._ "

The girl's forehead creased as a frown struck her formerly smiling face.

"Clearly, being an _adult_ didn't help you win that fight!"

Weiss clenched her fists, and growled.

"If you ever become a _real_ huntress, then you'd come to learn that ring outs don't win duels in the world outside. The _grimm_ don't die from crossing a red line!"

"Well, maybe this isn't _about_ when we all graduate. Maybe - maybe this is about what's going on _today!"_

Weiss laughed bitterly.

"Isn't what we learn today to prepare us for being huntresses? Or are you so trapped in your infantile imagination that you didn't even realise that?"

"My 'infantile imagination' - or whatever - made me win a fight! It made me _friends!_ All being an _adult_ has done is make you a total jerk! And it'll keep doing just that! Just _watch!"_

At this point, she stepped forward and glared directly towards Weiss. She responded in kind.

"Is that so? Perhaps I'll have to trounce you at every turn, just to prove you wrong and snap you out of this idyllic daydream!"

"I-I'll trounce _you_ at every turn!" she spluttered back.

The door creaked open to the left of her, and their heads snapped round to it - catching a blonde girl standing in the door frame, a jubilant grin on her face. Standing behind her were two others, no doubt her teammates from initiation.

"What's the holdup, Ru -" Miss Xiao-Long began, before she cut herself off.

She rather quickly took in the scene, and her eyes narrowed - the grin vanishing instantaneously.

"Rubes, what's going on?" her voice was now laced with a dangerous edge.

Weiss scoffed, and then walked toward the door.

There wasn't any need to create any more of a scene.

She was stopped in her tracks as a gauntleted hand blocked her exit. It looked like Miss Xiao-Long was trying to stop her from leaving.

She pushed past it.

"Hey, what the hell -"

Miss Xiao-Long's eyes were red now, and she rushed forward, hand stretching out to seize Weiss by the shoulder.

The only thing it took to stop her was a single, small hand on her shoulder.

"Let her go, Yang." her silver eyes were wavering, and fixed to the ground. Her other hand gripped her cloak, and seemed to tremble slightly.

Weiss smirked, pushed through the other two confused team members, and walked off down the hallway.

*X*

This was the worst. This was the absolute worst thing ever.

Ruby sat down outside her dorm, where her teammates all sat in silence, probably all feeling sorry for her or something. They'd all, despite pretty clearly not wanting to, decided to give her some space after that whole Weiss fiasco.

Dang it! Weren't the two of them supposed to be _friends_ after all that? Wasn't Weiss supposed to treat her like she was an adult instead of a kid if she won? Where'd she messed up? What kind of silly trip up had she made, that Weiss would say such horrible, cold things to her?

Perhaps worst of all, why did a little voice in her brain tell her that this was just the kind of person Weiss _was?_

Why couldn't she tell herself that it was wrong?

Gah, there were too many unhappy thoughts swirling around in her head. She hated it when that happened. She let her head droop to her knees.

" _Isn't what we learn today to prepare us for being huntresses? Or are you so trapped in your infantile imagination that you didn't even realise that?"_

… Honestly, she hadn't given the prospect a lot of thought before - Beacon had so far been all about the fun and games, and it had had made it kinda easy to forget, but they really _were_ here to become huntresses, weren't they?

She looked down at her hands.

Was she not taking it seriously enough?

"Hey, Miss Rose."

She jumped out of her skin at the sudden noise, standing bolt upright and snapping her head around to the raised eyebrow of Professor Torchwick.

"U-um, hi, Professor."

She couldn't look him in the eyes.

"I'm presuming something's up. Am I wrong?"

"W-what? No, I'm fine! R-really!" Ruby stumbled over her words, flailing her hands around as if it would blow away the awkward atmosphere, and then tried her hardest to keep a smile on her face.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

He sat down against the wall, propping his cane up by his side, and then patted the floor next to him.

Ruby sat down soon.

"So, I take it you're upset over Miss Schnee getting annoyed at you?"

A nervous laugh escaped Ruby's mouth before she could do anything to stop it. Her shoulders slumped.

"... Yeah. You had such a great plan, but I think I messed it all up and I don't even know why."

"You _don't?"_

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"No - wait, should _I?"_

To her amazement, Torchwick then broke out into a chuckle, and he grinned widely.

"It's pretty simple, kiddo. She's upset that you beat her so easily. I mean, I'd be a little upset too if I lost through a ring-out without losing a _single point of Aura."_

Was - was that it? Was it really _just_ about that?

"B-but, why?" she asked.

He looked genuinely amazed.

"Y-you seriously don't get it? It's her Schnee _pride,_ kiddo. She's not going to recognise your victory unless it's totally absolute. She just didn't recognise your victory as, well, a _victory._ "

An 'absolute' victory? What did he mean? Had she somehow bungled her win?

"W-wait, why isn't a win through a ring-out a real one? I-it's not like I cheated or anything! I… Don't understand."

Torchwick went totally quiet for a long moment. Then, suddenly, he let out a dry chuckle.

"You know what, Red? Me neither."

For a moment, something in his eyes looked a little different - his face, too. He almost looked… Well, she couldn't really place it. As soon as she'd tried, it was gone as if it was never there.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it, Miss Rose. Look, she doesn't think it was a real win because in her head she probably sees it as her failure as opposed to your success."

Ruby scratched her head.

"I… Think I get it? She thinks the loss was all her fault?" she asked, and Professor Torchwick nodded.

Well, now she felt _super_ stupid. If she'd gone and messed up something that important, she'd _definitely_ have gotten upset over it too.

"Oh… I can see how that would get a little frustrating."

She twiddled her fingers a little, before turning back to the Professor.

"... So, what do I do now?"

Torchwick's grin returned in full force.

"She won't respect you unless you can prove yourself in every way, Miss Rose. That means you're going to have to, in your very own words, 'trounce her at every turn.' You have to show that you're every bit as good as she is and _then_ some."

Ruby bit her lip a little.

"Can I - can I really do that? What if I mess up like last time?"

"Your relationship was always going to get worse before it could get better, kid. She's going to react negatively to it at first, but just wait long enough and she'll slowly come to respect you - it'll be simple, see?"

"But what if I'm just not good enough to do it, Professor? I don't think I could beat Weiss in test scores or anything. She seems _super_ smart."

Torchwick tapped the side of his head knowingly.

"All accounted for, Miss Rose. I'll be more than willing to help you out with Economics, and I'm sure I can get Doctor Oobleck to help you with History."

"What about Professor Port?"

"Please, I'm contractually obligated not to harm my students."

Ruby giggled. She couldn't help herself. She'd pretty much forgotten her earlier bad mood now.

Professor Torchwick stood up, and offered her his hand. She took it, and got back up to her feet.

"U-um, thanks Professor."

"No problem, Miss Rose."

With that, he was off - disappearing down the corridor.

Ruby joined her teammates inside the dorm with a smile on her face.

*X*

This was almost _too_ easy. It was practically unbelievable how malleable these kids really were!

Torchwick couldn't help but cackle devilishly as he stepped through Beacon's wonderfully decorated hallways.

It had been elating - _euphoria-inducing,_ even - to see the star-struck look on Little Red's face as he told her what more or less amounted to a less authoritative version of what he'd said to the Schnee not even thirty minutes prior.

But not even _that_ could top the satisfaction he'd felt from hearing two promising future huntresses at each other's throats over something petty and menial. Some 'defenders of the world' they were going to end up being when they couldn't recognise each others' flaws if they had walked up to and slapped them.

Even better, it had gone _exactly_ as he'd planned!

He rubbed his gloved hands together in delight.

This was only the beginning - there were undoubtedly plenty more like Little Red and the Schnee: the Beacon student body was like a cache filled with especially volatile Red Dust, and all it would take was little sparks to send the whole thing up in flames.

And, so long as he was careful, he'd have free reign to do it as much as he wanted.

"Professor Torchwick," bit an increasingly familiar sharp voice, "Might I ask where you've been this whole time?"

Right on schedule.

"Just staring at some of the stone work on this building's walls. They're lovely, aren't they?" Torchwick replied, smirking slightly as she pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath to contain her frustration.

"I looked around the _entirety of Beacon,_ Torchwick, and I couldn't find you anywhere. I _know_ you were up to something."

Torchwick raised his hands in surrender.

"Ah, it seems I've been caught red-handed. I'm afraid to admit that I was…"

Glynda raised an eyebrow. Clearly, she didn't expect him to actually tell her the truth.

"... Helping some students."

She scoffed.

"As if I'd believe _that,_ Torchwick. We both know the only reason you put any effort into teaching at all is to try and irritate me. Helping students in your own time is out of the question."

Torchwick shrugged.

"I mean, if you were good enough to catch up to me, Purple, maybe you'd have seen it for yourself."

She clenched her teeth, and for a moment her eyes seemed to burn with a more intense fire than Goldilocks'.

"Is that so, Torchwick?" her voice dripped acid, burning right into Torchwick's eardrums, "In that case, I'll be following you for the rest of tonight - and you'll see for yourself if I'm _not good enough_ to keep up with you."

Torchwick paused as he finally came outside the door he was looking for. His hand closed around the door handle, and he opened the way to his room.

"Well," he began, "I was actually just about to head to my room and go to sleep. Perhaps you could join me!"

His eyebrows wiggled suggestively for added effect. It payed off when Glynda returned it with a face like thunder.

"No." she replied, her voice colder than even the highest quality Ice Dust money could buy.

"Are you sure? I could use your lap as a pillow! I wouldn't even _dream_ of sneaking off then!"

Her expression darkened, and she clenched her hands so tightly that Torchwick was pretty sure she could see her Aura straining under her fingernails. She was biting her lip hard enough to sever her tongue, and her breathing became deeper as she attempted to calm her rising fury.

She tried to make some witty retort, and failed.

Then, she stormed off, and Torchwick narrowed his eyes slightly at the unsightly marks her heels dug into the carpet, before heading back into his room to make himself a meal.

He'd probably have to talk to the green-haired lunatic about giving Little Red and the Schnee extra lessons soon, wouldn't he?

*X*

The grass whispered underfoot as she crept through the forest. The dark was frustratingly thick, preventing her from properly getting her bearings.

It wasn't useful for her - only a hindrance, really. When no one would be able to see her anyways, who needed the shadows to hide themselves?

Her view of the trees ahead shimmered slightly as she perfectly readjusted the illusion to match her surroundings with each step. Her feet danced around any noise-inducing twigs with practiced ease, making her footsteps against the uneven floor completely inaudible.

Sure, the forest might have been completely silent at this hour - but there could be opponents about any corner. Ones whose capabilities were an unknown; which meant they would hold her up for all the longer. Her face twisted into a light scowl.

Right now, wasting time was the last thing she wanted to do - not while Roman was trapped in the last place on Remnant he'd ever want to be.

She could practically _see_ his grateful face as she finally broke him out. He'd owe her for this one, alright - the very thought of it made her expression return to a gratified smirk.

Oh, she'd be dining on her favourite ice cream for _weeks!_

She froze as the trees parted, revealing a small clearing filled with flowers and moonlight. While she'd have preferred keeping to the trees in the event she had to run, she needed a better view of her target - something that all these _stupid_ branches were in the way of.

Upon seeing how tiny it seemed from here, she bit her lip in annoyance.

It was still far away. Still high up, too - it was likely she'd have to do some climbing to get up there.

That was a problem. The longer she travelled, the more difficult it would be to keep up the illusion. She would have to start taking risks eventually - and risks could attract unwanted attention.

She didn't want to have to make her way to Beacon with grimm on her tail. The sight of the creatures of the night chasing after something completely invisible would no doubt raise a few eyebrows.

… This was such a dumb nuisance. How could Roman get himself captured during such a pitifully easy heist? She _knew_ she shouldn't have let him go out there alone. No matter how much he'd tried to convince her otherwise.

He'd be stuck with her at his side for the next one, whether he liked it or not.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

Suddenly, a noise caught her attention. It was a faraway one, and sounded something like a rustling bush.

Her hand fell to the handle of her blade. It always helped to be prepared.

She scanned the forest in the direction of the noise. The inky blackness between the trees prevented her from seeing anything - but she could _hear_ whatever it was grow steadily closer.

It grew louder, and louder still, until -

A colourful variety of profanities whirled through her head as she ducked and rolled sideways - just in time to avoid the black shape that came crashing through the undergrowth.

"My goodness, it looks like we've a wily one!" boomed an… Unsettlingly haughty voice.

She tried to take in the strange sight.

Directly in front of her, tossing and turning on the floor, was a round-looking hairy man - and he was grappling, unarmed, with an extremely large Deathstalker. It was, with ease, the largest one she had ever seen - covered from end to end in a series of barbs that the man held onto while wrestling the beast to the ground.

The creature tossed him to the side, and he crashed into another tree - snapping it at the trunk. Instead of screaming in pain, like any person she had seen before would have been, he simply got back up, laughed and brushed himself off.

He then charged directly back in, and she watched, eyes widening, as he dashed into the creature's widening maw, and was devoured entirely.

In moments, he was gone.

And, without him to distract it…

The creature, sensing her fear, turned directly towards her. She stared back at it, her hands beginning to sweat slightly.

She'd dealt with grimm before. Big ones, too. But nothing of _this_ size. Could she really be able to beat this thing?

If she couldn't, she'd have to run.

But that - _that_ would mean leaving Roman where he was for longer.

She gripped the end of the parasol, and prepared to fight.

Just as a loud _boom_ rang out from within the Deathstalker's chest. Its entire body lurched, and it collapsed onto one side, writhing around in agony.

Another _boom,_ and with a spray of gratuitous gore, the rotund man emerged from the creature's mangled carapace. He wiped a bit of eyeball off of himself casually, before blowing out a wisp of smoke emerging from the barrel of his weapon.

"My, my, the kids'll _love_ hearing about this. I can see it now! The day I wrestled a deathstalker the size of a bus and then blew it up from the inside out! Perhaps it'll even keep them _awake_ this time!"

She froze.

What - how - _why?_

Every single instinct she had trained over her years of experience _screamed_ at her to run away, but she was completely rooted in place. She could hardly even tear her eyes from the man, even as the remains of the Deathstalker began to fade away into the night.

And then… He turned right to where she was standing. Her breath caught.

"... And then, I fought an _invisible grimm!_ That'll have them on the edge of their seats!" he said, slowly beginning to pace right towards her.

How could he see her? This - this should've been completely impossible! Her illusions were _flawless!_

"Wait…" he stopped dead in his tracks, before glancing around the clearing he'd created while brawling the gigantic monster, "You aren't a grimm, are you? I can't tell exactly where you are, but I can feel your hostile intent. If you want to enter this fine academy, I'm afraid you'll have to come in through legal channels."

He twirled his weapon in his hand.

"Unless you'd like to come in bandages, that is! The option's always open, and allows me to have another rollicking battle to round out the night!"

She took another step back.

 _Snap!_

She looked down, feeling rising panic upon seeing the twig she'd just stepped on.

"Ah, there you are."

She turned back to where the man was standing, only to find him completely gone.

Where was he - where'd he go!?

She checked frantically in every single direction around her, unable to catch even a glimpse of him with the shadows of the trees in her way.

" _Tally ho!"_

With a pit in her stomach, she looked up.

And just barely dodged to the side as the man hit the floor with an earth-splitting crash.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **SetupMage:** **It could be there. It could not. Who knows? Given how little interaction they have in the show, I'd definitely be steering that ship through uncharted waters. Potentially dangerous ones. Filled with sharks and the like.**

 **Bomberguy:** **I'm counting down the seconds until you figure out the entire plot of this fic with fearful anticipation.**

 **General response:** **It's great to see that people liked that fight scene a lot! I was a bit nervous with it, since some of the fight scenes I'd written before that were a little... Meh - and since it was a huge milestone for both characters, 'meh' was not good enough. So, it's a huge relief to see everyone receiving it that well. That said, I get the feeling I should talk about my general thought process for the matchup.**

 **Breakdown of Pyrrha v. Yang (kinda addressed to Fantasy and stephen):** **Pyrrha's still the strongest of the Beacon first years, make absolutely no mistake about that. She has overwhelmingly positive matchups against most of the entire cast of RWBY given their reliance on using weaponry made out of magnetic materials, which basically gives her an instant win. That _said,_ Yang is, beyond all shadow of a doubt, the worst matchup Pyrrha could possibly have - for a number of reasons that I think either already have or soon will become obvious as the plot progresses. But, despite having a good matchup against Pyrrha, Yang's matchups against the rest of the other students in Beacon are slightly worse.**

 **Okay, so... Here's the bit that I'm afraid of having egg on my face for - it's _really_ difficult to properly assess how skilled Pyrrha _actually_ is from show footage alone. This is for two main reasons:**

 **\- We have no real idea just how much she uses her Semblance in every fight she appears in. For all we know, she could actually be using it every single time she dodges an attack - given the subtlety with which she was able to use it in her fight against Mercury, she could be using it literally anywhere and we'd have no idea.  
** **\- In the only fight where she _couldn't_ use her Semblance to dodge attacks - the one against Cinder, as her weapons are made of non magnetic material - her opponent was very clearly not giving it her all in the slightest. As a result, it's really hard to actually get an accurate placement of just where she'd rank in comparison to the rest of the cast.**

 **Anyways, big nerdy rant over.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: This chapter was so difficult to get out on time that I'm actually _relieved_ I managed to finish it today. Blame high-quality webcomics for being incredible procrastination fuel.**

 **That said... I'm heading back to school now so updating is going to get increasingly difficult, especially as I near the date of my final exams. (Brrr)**

 **Anyways, responses at the bottom!**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

The glass shone in the light as he wiped the last of the remaining muck off of its surface.

… Man, the things Junior thought about when he was bored were stupid.

There hadn't been a lot to do recently. They were _still_ working on fixing up the nightclub, and as a result he was _still_ getting no visitors - outside of a few sentimental regulars. And, for the most part, when they weren't trying to destroy his property Junior liked talking to customers.

Not to mention business had been pretty slow on the _other_ side of things too. With Torchwick's disappearance, any underworld bigshot worth his salt was laying low, consolidating their goons and hoping to take the limelight in his absence. Which meant they wouldn't go and extend any olive branches to Junior by giving away any secrets that could compromise their chances of becoming the next kingpin.

Well, at least Torchwick hadn't sold everyone out. That would've sucked. That said, where he supposedly _had_ ended up, at least according to the murder-happy mute that hounded his every step, was a little more troubling than the prospect of a few hundred police knocking on his door.

Why would someone like Professor Ozpin suddenly want Torchwick near 17-year-old kids?

It was pretty common for huntsmen to turn in major criminals, but they were sent to an actual _prison. Not_ a huntsman academy. There may have been rumours about Ozpin having his own personal dungeon in which he got up to, uh… _Disreputable_ things, but Junior had long since learned, with pretty much absolute certainty, that they were as fake as the supposed cloaked vigilante that stalked the night shutting down criminal warehouses single-handedly.

Well, maybe that was just what he told himself to hold back the mental image of Roman Torchwick being whipped by Professor Ozpin in a dark, empty cell.

He began to polish the surface of the bar until the dark wood gleamed, then moved to dust off each of the seats for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

Even worse, he didn't even have the Malachites to yank him from his thoughts this time - they were out on the town, doing who knows what, and they were kind of too old for him to tell them to do otherwise these days.

Well, so long as they weren't causing any major trouble, it would hopefully turn out all roses. Getting them out of jail, given how rude they were to the officers, was usually pretty damn difficult. He'd lectured them to at least _try_ to be polite to the VPD multiple times, but they'd gone and stared at him, all wide-eyed, as if he were telling them to _kill a puppy!_

Torchwick must've had it real easy with his bodyguard. Not only was she pretty much a monster, her Semblance meant she could run away from the police with ease, no matter how heinous her crimes - and on the off chance she got _caught,_ she wouldn't be able to sass the police officers with that disability of hers.

The front door creaked open, and Junior jumped up almost feverishly.

 _Finally, someone to talk to!_

His friendly smile vanished as he realised one of his goons had stepped in to the club, rubbing the back of their neck with one hand and clutching a ribboned pink box in the other.

"Hey, boss!" he called, "Nobody knew where to find ya so I figured here was the place to look. Seems like that was a good call!"

Junior raised an eyebrow.

"The only time I'm leaving this club empty is in a coffin, kid. Of course I'm here. The real question is why the hell are you? If I send you all out for a break, it means I _don't_ want to see you." he growled back.

The goon waved his hand dismissively, chuckling slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, boss. I know. Just thought we'd bring back somethin' for you - show of appreciation an' all that. You've been kinda down lately, and the Malachites wouldn't stop yappin' at us to get ya a gift."

Junior rolled his eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake - I'm not such a softie that…" his eyes widened when he saw, and recognized, the logo on the little box the guy was bringing him. "Holy shit, how the fuck did you get the money for _that?"_

Crap, his voice came out a little higher there than he'd have liked. The guy put the insanely expensive package down onto the surface of the bar, and when Junior picked it up he cradled it like he was holding a bomb.

"We pooled it together for ya. Pretty much everyone chipped in a bit, and those that didn't want to did as soon as the twins put a blade at their throat. Enjoy, boss."

His subordinate flashed him a grin, and Junior bit his lip, for whatever reason unable to speak.

… He smiled. It looked like his goons were good for something after all.

"Thanks. For the gift _and_ for wasting the money I give you."

The guy laughed, clutching his hat to his head to keep it from falling off.

And then the happy moment was brought to a screeching stop as the door slammed open - loudly enough to make both men wince - revealing nothing on the other side. Or, at least, nothing visible to the naked eye.

And that could only mean one thing.

His subordinate turned back to the slowly closing door.

"The fuck's that? Some kinda ghost?"

Junior grabbed his club from under the bar, and began to pace toward the entrance, eyes scanning every angle of the building for even the slightest signs of movement. If he missed anything, no matter how small, that could mean death.

"Much scarier. Kid, I'm gonna have to ask you to run as fast as you fucking can for the back door, and then scream like a fucking bitch to try and get as much attention as possible."

The dude's brows furrowed behind his sunglasses, but he reached for the axe at his side nonetheless.

"Boss, what the -"

A sound from the center of the room cut the man off.

 _Tap - tap, tap._

Junior's eyes shot right back to the dance floor. He could hear her footsteps? That wasn't right. Something was off. The way they sounded, too - the rhythm wasn't quite right. It was almost as if…

His subordinate gasped as the air began to shimmer, falling away into tiny, glowing, glass-like shards.

Junior was frozen at the sight in front of him, unable to move or speak, and his hands straining from how tightly he gripped the handle of his weapon.

Standing right there, in the middle of the dance floor, was the invincible psycho bitch. But, instead of her usual impeccable dress and confident swagger, she was wandering about in torn up clothes and limping - probably due to one of her legs being twisted so horribly it made Junior's stomach churn just from looking at it.

She was also covered in blood. But an educated guess told Junior that, for once, it was definitely her own.

The blood poured from multiple points on her body like a fucked-up fountain - gashes lined her midriff, and there were enough of them to make her usually pink getup seem red. Scarlet lines streaked across the side of one arm - Junior could bet those were from barely dodging bullets.

She was clutching the other one tightly, and although he couldn't see the wound she was probably trying to hide, from the way blood was flowing down it in torrents he could tell it must've been a nasty one.

Junior looked down at the floor, and winced when he realised that a long trail of blood had now appeared, leading out of the club and onto the streets. Was this some kind of trick? Or had she been hiding those on the way in?

"Boss, who the fuck's _this?_ " asked his goon, now gripping the axe's handle _very_ tightly. He was standing completely still - clearly way too nervous to approach.

"Kid, I want you to stay back. I'm not entirely sure what this is about, but this could get dicey." Junior said, beginning to step toward the limping girl. He took it slowly, though - if this was a trap, he didn't want to get caught in it with his pants down.

The man moved to follow him, but Junior held him back.

"I _said_ stay back." he ordered.

"Boss, look at how badly messed up that girl is!" the man hissed, "Are you seriously _scared_ of her?"

Junior shook his head.

"Girl can make illusions. Maybe she _looks_ fucked up, but for all I know she's ready to kill all of us. Now stand the _fuck_ back, or else you could end up looking _way_ worse than she does."

The man bit his lip, but didn't make another move.

All this time, Junior's eyes hadn't left the girl. She was limping slowly toward them, trailing blood all the way, her head pointed firmly at the floor, and swaying like a drunk. She'd certainly never gone this far to prank Junior before.

Oh, shit.

He probably hadn't noticed them as she'd come in due to the distance, but as soon as he caught it, he stopped dead.

Small beads of light, falling from behind her hair and hitting the glass floor with a soft _drip._

She was _crying._

Neo, the cold, silent, sociopathic lunatic, who probably killed about as many men as Junior served beer on a daily basis, was _crying._

 _Shit._

She twisted, and fell over - clearly no longer able to walk with her leg in that condition.

Junior caught her just before her head hit the floor, and for the first time that night, got a look at her face. It was covered in blood, sure, but that wasn't the only red on her cheeks - she'd been crying for a long time, and her eyes had dark rings around them from a clear lack of sleep.

This wasn't an illusion. Junior could tell as soon as he felt the girl's blood trickle down his arms, staining his suit.

"You got any medical training?" Junior asked the guy behind him.

"N-no, boss." he replied.

"That'll have to do. Grab a first aid kit, boil me some water and get me a big stick or something for her leg. Torchwick would kill us if we let this girl die."

The guy stared at him blankly for a moment.

"I'll explain later." Junior added.

"Okay, boss!" the man replied, before quickly dashing off to grab the things Junior had asked him for.

She'd really gone and done it, hadn't she? She'd gone and tried to break into Beacon all on her own, just like he'd warned her not to. It was suicidal, to say the _least._

Junior grimaced when he lifted away the hand clutching her arm, and realised that there was a hole in it. One wide enough for him to see the dance floor on the other side.

It looked like it hadn't blasted through her bones, but it had definitely taken out some blood vessels. If she'd been travelling all the way from Beacon with a wound like that, then she almost certainly should've been dead.

Junior stifled a dark chuckle.

This girl really _was_ a monster.

"Here, boss!"

His subordinate quickly set down the items Junior had asked for on the floor beside him.

He grabbed the first aid kit, quickly pulling it open, and fumbling through the inside for what he was looking for.

 _There._

A needle and thread. He was going to need to shut these wounds, quick - she was bleeding from too many places at once for applying pressure to be of any use.

He started with the wound on her arm. It was a slow, and painfully tense process - almost every second, he'd check to see if she was still breathing. And, it may have been some kind of miracle, but every single time he looked at her he'd see her chest rising and falling steadily.

In what felt like hours, he'd stitched up the wounds on her other arm. In what felt like days, he'd stitched up the wounds on her body. In what felt like weeks, he'd bandaged them all up.

It was messy, but it would have to do.

 _Now for her leg._

It was twisted brutally - it looked more like she'd been hit by a truck than in a fight - and even with Aura like hers, probably wouldn't be healing for some time.

Well, at least he could help speed up the process.

He looked back at the stuff his subordinate had brought him, and his eyes narrowed when he realised what the makeshift splint would be.

A crowbar. Fucking _fantastic._

Well, whatever; it was all he had for now.

He reached for the girl's leg, and then began to twist it back into place. The sounds it made as he slowly wrenched it back into a shape resembling that of a normal leg made his stomach lurch - _squelches_ and _pops_ like something out of a corny horror movie

It was a shock to see that her eyes didn't so much as flutter throughout the entire process, even as he tied the makeshift splint to her leg to keep it in place. She was out cold, alright - even if she was trying to bottle up the pain, her face would've at least given away some discomfort.

He'd probably need to get her to see a real doctor if her Aura didn't kick in soon.

Just how much did she have to work with, anyway? He'd never been gutsy enough to try and find out himself - he'd likely have been stabbed in the process. Now, however, how quickly she got back her reserves might make the difference between life and death.

"Give me your scroll real quick." Junior ordered, his subordinate quickly complying.

He feverishly typed in one of the numbers he could remember off of the top of his head. He needed a doctor on the double - and legitimate ones were often frustratingly slow and wouldn't make house calls at this time of night.

The dialling tone rang once, twice, and three times - Junior panicking more with each ring - before a fuzzy voice emerged on the other end of the line.

' ** _Uh, hello?'_**

"Is this Doctor Scratch?" Junior asked.

' ** _Uh, that'd be me. The one and only.'_**

"Good. It's Junior. I need you over here. Now."

' ** _Now? It isn't like I can teleport or anything. Soon is the best I can manage. What's your business, even?'_**

"I've got a girl who may or not be dying on my dance floor. I've done a bit for her, but it might not be enough."

The voice on the other end went silent for a moment.

' ** _Alright. I'll be there in a moment. I am an_** **impeccable** ** _doctor, after all.'_**

The line went silent.

"You'd better be." Junior muttered under his breath.

Whatever was about to happen to the girl, it was now out of his hands.

Which _really_ pissed him off.

*X*

Jaune sighed, and collapsed onto his bed like a sack of bricks.

It had been a pretty long day today. It was another one of Professor Goodwitch's combat lessons - and this time, he'd been chosen at random to completely embarrass himself in front of everyone else. He'd lost. Horribly, too. He hadn't even really scratched his opponent. If he was doing that badly against other students, it was pretty easy to guess how he'd handle the grimm.

If he couldn't get it together, he could end up a splat on the floor and a footnote in history. It was a painful reality, but one that was quickly becoming all the more real: every single day, coming to Beacon felt like a worse choice. He couldn't even keep up with the homework, let alone keep up with his teammates' fighting abilities!

To stack the odds against him even more, there was Professor Torchwick. Honestly, Jaune didn't even know what to think of the man anymore - at first, he'd been terrified of him, and all things considered, he still _was_. The mere thought of him sent chills down his spine, and whenever he was in lessons with the man his first thought was to bolt from his chair and then jump out of the window.

But… He hadn't yet _done_ anything with the dream-crushing information he used to put Jaune right into the palm of his hand. The most Torchwick had even asked Jaune to do was pay attention in class after catching him not paying attention. It was terrifying, at first. He'd looked over his shoulder every moment, expecting some stern teacher to tell him that he was expelled, or Torchwick to ask him to do… Something. But nothing had happened. The only thing that had crept up on him was his own paranoia.

And then he'd listened on the Professor's conversation with Ruby outside their dorm. That had… Thrown him through a loop, to say the least. One the one hand, he still had the memory of how intimidating the teacher could be fresh in his mind - on the other, seeing him talk to Ruby like that wasn't something Jaune could just toss aside as _fake._

He had a lot of questions about his Economics teacher, and none of them were ones he had answers to.

He sighed. There was nothing to do but grit his teeth and bear it. Push through, like the hero he wanted to be.

"Hey, fearless Leader!" a perky voice called from Jaune's left, "Would you mind ordering Ruby here to be less boring?"

Jaune raised an eyebrow at the fellow blonde's comment.

"She's only studying, Yang. I don't see how that's a bad thing." he replied, smiling slightly at the inhuman groan that she let out in response.

Well, it was admittedly surprising to see Ruby working away so diligently - she'd been squirreled away in the corner of the dorm with her headphones on, lost in some books leant to her by Doctor Oobleck for almost the entire day. He hadn't really pegged her as the studying type - it just went to show that you couldn't judge books by their covers.

It looked like it had surprised her sister too, and not in a good way.

"But studying is _boring,_ and it's not even the homework we _have to do!"_ Yang protested with a tone of voice that sounded _way_ more childish than it should've.

Jaune caught Blake rolling her eyes from the corner of his vision.

"Hey, it's Ruby's choice, not mine." he answered, "Besides, if she hasn't been responding to you then why would my attempts be any more successful?"

Yang scoffed.

" _Because_ you need a dashing knight to break the spell placed on a princess! I'd thought that would be obvious, _Jaune-y boy._ " Yang paused for a moment, and looked behind her to the red-cloaked girl buried in a pile of books with an expectant grin on her face. As seconds passed in complete silence, the grin fell away.

Jaune would probably have blushed if it wasn't painfully obvious what this was all about.

"Well?" Jaune asked, "Did you get what you wanted?"

"I didn't even get an _eep_ from her, Jaune! She's normally only like this with her weapon! Something's wrong. _Very_ wrong." she hissed, before leaning in a little closer, " _I think she's been possessed._ "

"I think it's a good thing she's reading." Blake remarked, "She gets to escape _your_ influence."

Although her comments bit just as deeply as usual, Yang seemed to have come with a pre-built immunity to any and all insults. She just laughed, walked over to the end of the room and wrapped an arm around the quiet girl's shoulder.

"That's what they all say at first, Blakey. That studying is _good_ for you. But then, slowly, before anyone even realises it -" she suddenly tensed her arm, and Blake flinched, "- _Boom!_ Your soul gets sucked right out!"

Blake scoffed quietly.

"You'd better move quick then, Yang - or else your little sister will end up like _me."_

Yang did an exaggerated shiver that made her teammates share a laugh.

"I would if I could, Blakey - but I'd be competing for her influence with Professor Torchwick and, lemme tell you, that guy has his claws sunk in _deep._ "

Jaune tensed.

"Seriously," Yang continued, "It's kind of weird, isn't it? One detention with him and then _boom!_ She hangs off of his every word."

"You never did explain what that detention was about, did you?" Blake's eyes had narrowed into slits - and oddly enough she looked just as, if not more, agitated than Jaune.

"I mean, it was pretty embarrassing. But I guess it's all water under the bridge now, so I might as well tell you." she shrugged nonchalantly.

"... It _isn't_ because you want to get back at her for ignoring us?" Jaune asked.

Yang smirked evilly, but said nothing else.

"Well, anyways," she continued, "She actually got that detention because she attacked Professor Torchwick."

… _What?_

"What for…?" Blake's eyes had narrowed to almost impossibly small sizes.

"Apparently the Professor was giving the Ice Queen some misplaced Dust back, and Rubes mistook it for a theft. Pretty dumb, huh?~"

Jaune should've laughed. He should've shown some sign of disbelief, but…

Somehow, he just couldn't. Looking at Blake, he realised she now had a _very_ intense frown on her face. Sure, she might have not been the most outwardly emotional of people, but that would probably have prompted at least a chuckle from her - the story wasn't really unbelievable, after all.

Yang seemed to remain completely oblivious to it, chatting away about how freaked out Ruby had been when she discovered that her 'dust thief' was in fact their Economics teacher.

Meanwhile Blake looked like she'd been hit by a taser. She was backed up, and biting her lip nervously, her book thrown away at her bedside. Something she'd heard had scared her, too. Something, probably, about Torchwick.

Was she like this in lessons with him, too? Jaune supposed he wouldn't have noticed - he was usually too nervous when around him to pay too much attention to his surroundings, and he was pretty sure she'd normally sit kind of far away from everyone else.

So there was a very real chance she knew something that they didn't about Professor Torchwick. If there was, then this wasn't something he could just ignore like last time.

Jaune hadn't wanted to press her for information before - it just wasn't his place - but now, it looked like he wouldn't have a choice. Not when his future at Beacon could be on the line.

*X*

Glynda had been dealing with a growing migraine for the past two or so hours.

How on _earth_ was Torchwick so capable at eluding her? She'd tracked down stray criminals within the concrete jungles of the Mistral underground, hunted for survivors in the depths of Atlesian blizzards, scoured the scorching heat of Vacuo for political prisoners, and had to find Peaches after a number of her numerous… Episodes.

These were feats that would've been impossible for anyone else. She'd proven herself to be one of Remnant's highest caliber huntresses over a decade ago.

So why, _why_ could she not keep up with this _one_ ignoramus in her _own_ workplace!? It was completely ridiculous!

The only conclusion she'd been able to draw from closed circuit television footage was that the Economics teacher could periodically choose to not exist. As far as those worthless cameras were concerned, Roman Torchwick was invisible.

When she confronted him for tampering with them, the man had simply shrugged and said, "Force of habit."

Well, when she'd hired a number of technicians to make sure they were in top form, they'd gone and told her that they were all working completely fine.

She'd refused to pay them.

Perhaps - perhaps they themselves were in the employ of Torchwick, payed off to prevent -

She shook her head.

No.

That would be ridiculous.

 _Or would it?_ Asked a _very_ short-lived voice in her head.

That simply left searching the entirety of the building herself. She'd raised a few eyebrows when she started combing dorm rooms for him, but the man was anything if not unconventional - she could not leave a single stone unturned.

And now she was only left with a single room. Of course, she doubted he'd be in here - it was difficult to hide in, and the CCT signal was comparatively worse than anywhere else in the building - but it wouldn't do to discover he'd been tampering with the equipment inside. If he wasn't in here, as she suspected, then she'd just have to immediately notify Ozpin that he'd escaped, and he would be hunted down and presumably executed.

She grinned.

Yes, that was a _wonderful_ thought.

The doors of the room finally approached her - and a rather unusual scent hit her nose.

No, it couldn't be - he _couldn't have!_

She scowled, and burst through the kitchen door.

"Hello, Professor!" greeted Oobleck.

He was sat leisurely at the side of one of the aisles, just beside the sink about which Torchwick was steadily washing some crockery.

"Professor Torchwick! What on _earth_ do you think you're doing?"

Torchwick turned to her, grinning, and raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, Roman here was just cooking some food and I was keeping him company. Care to join us, Professor?" Oobleck asked, taking a sip from his mug of coffee.

Glynda's eyes narrowed.

"And just _what_ , may I ask, is he cooking?"

"Duck, actually." replied Torchwick coolly.

"Oh? And where did you acquire it?"

"Just used some leftovers in the fridge."

"... Who gave you access to cafeteria staff resources?"

Torchwick leaned back, that repulsive grin stretching his cheeks.

"... Professor Ozpin."

She massaged her temples to fight the increasing pain in her skull. She admired the Headmaster - she _truly_ did. But why he seemed to readily bend to this criminal's every single random whim was entirely beyond her. At this rate, he could be up to something heinous under their very noses _directly_ because of Ozpin's carelessness!

"I'll have to ask that you leave, Professor." Glynda ordered, expecting some kind of witty remark or rebuke.

Instead, Oobleck butted his head in again.

"Come on, now, Glynda! This is all in good spirit. Besides, the fellow hasn't eaten all day."

Glynda scoffed.

"In that case, he could have used the cafeteria. If he didn't, then so be it."

Torchwick rolled his eyes.

" _Please,_ Purple. You know as well as I do that they serve plastic from that cafeteria - and I'm just not _well-equipped_ enough to digest it!" he joked, faking sorrow. To Glynda's horror, Oobleck began to chuckle. Did he not realise that he was _encouraging_ the Economics teacher's ridiculous behavior by doing that?

Glynda had to repress the urge to kill them both, then and there.

If she killed Oobleck, Peaches would be distraught. If she killed Torchwick…

… It would be unprofessional. That was why she hadn't killed him yet, right?

"Are you insinuating that what you can make is better than what Beacon's team of highly trained professionals are capable of?"

Oobleck burst out into laughter.

"I think Rudolph's response should be proof enough."

 _Rudolph?_ Glynda turned her gaze to the history teacher. It struck her as soon as she saw the red tie against the green hair.

"I'm afraid to say I'll need more proof that you're _not_ just here to cause trouble."

"Professor, don't you think that's a bit on the harsh side -" Oobleck motioned to chide her again, but she stopped him in his tracks with the harshest glare she could muster.

Torchwick held one hand in the air.

"Say no more, Purple."

He then walked over to the other side of the room, where a glowing oven lay. Glynda's eyes narrowed as he slowly began to pull down the oven door, and…

Her breath was almost taken from her as the scent began to drift around the room and fill the air. She despised it, loathed it to the very core of her being, but - it was _divine._ And just the thought of what could make such a scent had her mouth beginning to water.

It must have showed in her expression, because Torchwick was now wearing a _very_ triumphant grin.

"Want a closer look?" he gestured to whatever heavenly sight lay inside the machine, glowing like a halo.

 _No!_

"Y-yes."

Oobleck smiled.

"Impressive, isn't it? First time I stumbled upon him cooking, I was lost for words!"

Lost for words? Oobleck? Under normal circumstances, she'd have refused to believe it possible, but the evidence tantalising her senses all but forced her to suspend her disbelief.

Hesitantly, as if it were about to attack her in some way, she took a step toward the oven. When it didn't move, as inanimate objects tended to, she took yet another step towards it. And another. And before long, she was close enough to touch it - a duck, roasting away inside the oven, glistening temptingly, _taunting_ her.

She bit her lip with frustration.

"So, you honestly think this can outdo the normal cafeteria food?" she challenged, although she cursed inwardly when she noticed her voice's normal bite had vanished entirely, "If that's the case, I'll need a little more proof."

"If you wanted some, all you had to do was ask." he replied, his voice slick like oil.

"Say, is there any chance I could enjoy a bit, too?" Oobleck had clapped his hands together eagerly, and was rubbing them together in a similar fashion to the way he would in front of a large history textbook, "You declined my request to have some last time!"

Torchwick sighed.

"You know what? Fine. You can both have some." he answered.

Minutes passed, Glynda's anticipation growing by orders of magnitude with each second. Soon, Torchwick took some sparkling plates and cutlery out of the sink, and brought the food out of the oven - and then it was before her.

Sat there, on the plate - with some very appetising looking greenery on the side, too.

And then, it was gone. Gone, with a sensation like static lingering on her tongue; warmth spreading throughout her body.

She looked across the table to where the history teacher sat. It seemed that Oobleck had already cleaned off his plate too.

They both turned to Torchwick, eyes pleading.

He shrugged.

"Sorry, but that was the last of it."

Oobleck fell silent, and turned back to the table.

"I-I see." his voice was choked with emotion, uncharacteristic of the normally upbeat man.

"So, I'm assuming you enjoyed it, Purple?" Torchwick didn't so much ask as state, looking Glynda directly in the eyes.

"... As much as I hate to admit it, I did." she growled, unable to meet his stare. "There, you win. Are you happy?"

"That brings the tally to _Torchwick, fourteen; Purple, zero._ "

Glynda narrowed her eyes. Oobleck raised his eyebrows.

"That's one for every single day I've been at Beacon." he added, and Oobleck laughed.

"I hate you." she replied.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **fan fic fan 759:** **Keep in mind that Torchwick hasn't actually _met_ the White Fang in this story, and that they don't represent all Faunus. Torchwick has actually been confirmed racist, he's just not more racist than the average person in Vale - i.e. he has a very slight bias against the Faunus for their uniquely Faunus characteristics.**

 **Sani2341:** **Keep in mind that Weiss wasn't exactly being level-headed at that point in time - she saw it more as a disgrace to her than anything else.**

 **Bomberguy:** **Well, she lived... _Ish._ The mighty Port had mercy on the sinner, forgiving her transgressions with only a minor beating.**

 **ThatDragonDude:** **Glad to hear you hadn't lost it! That would've sucked. Anyways, I never actually believed that a teacher would outright lie to their students or even exaggerate their stories if they wanted to help them learn from their experience - and I _refuse_ to believe Port is stupid so... Grimm-slaying badass it is.**

 **TheSetupMage:** **Hang on a minute... I could've sworn it was _three_ ursae, not two.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** **So, I guess I'm back! I feel absolutely terrible for taking so long to get this chapter out to you guys - it was a mixture of frequent episodes of severe writer's block, avalanches of homework that I had to work my way through with a pickaxe, and the nagging feeling that I was somehow writing a character wrong. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!**

 **Oh, I also learned that Peaches' name is actually _'Peach'_ which, well... Means that I've officially retconned RWBY for the first time in this fic. Well, it's too late to turn back now.**

 **As always, review responses below - along with an announcement!**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

Blake groaned, and let her head slam against the desk.

There was _nothing_ there. Nothing at all. Somehow, when she had gone to human and faunuskind's greatest repository of information in search of any answers, it had returned her week-long query with a half-hearted shrug.

As far as the Cross Continental Transmit System was concerned, the notorious criminal Roman Torchwick didn't exist. There was absolutely nothing to be found - even in the darkest, shadiest corners of the web she could feasibly reach on a school computer.

On the other hand, there were a _lot_ of stories about the Roman Torchwick, the _wildly successful_ and _well reputed_ accountant; a man who had never been on the receiving end of the law in his entire life, and had saved multiple institutions from total bankruptcy.

A pretty stunning resumé for someone who got accepted as a member of the Beacon faculty.

And an _extremely_ stunning cover story.

Needless to say, all of the newspapers available to her in Beacon's records painted the exact same picture.

Before, he wasn't exactly _easy_ to gather information on; all one had to do was look at how long he'd managed to avoid police capture despite the enormous scale of his operations to confirm that - but he didn't have an entirely falsified backstory to dissuade any potential pursuers!

And, given that new information she'd learned from Ruby yesterday, he was still up to his normal criminal activity just over three weeks ago; before turning up as an Economics teacher at Beacon academy with no past to speak of. Somehow or other, the criminal had managed to claw his way into the premier huntsman academy in Vale in a matter of days.

Whether it was spontaneous, or something he had planned years in advance, Torchwick would have undoubtedly needed some kind of contact within the Beacon staff to pull this off. Any number of Vale authority figures could erase things from the CCT - it wouldn't be the first time they had done something like that, after all - but only Beacon faculty could let him into Beacon. And as far as she knew, there was only _one_ person who handled Beacon's hiring.

And that was Headmaster Ozpin.

Blake couldn't really buy the Headmaster falling for bribes like other council members - nor threats; the man would have to be exceptional in order to take charge of an Academy of this caliber… But, if Torchwick had something on him or one of his staff members?

Come to think of it, she didn't really know much about too many of the Beacon faculty's past - only Professor Port actively talked about his, and she tuned him out. Besides, it wasn't as if any of the things he said were exactly _blackmail_ material.

It was _definitely_ worth having a look through public record to see what she could learn with them.

She typed ' **Peter Port'** into the search bar. If any one of the teachers would end up getting blackmailed, it'd probably be him. He was certainly bumbling enough to fall for one of Torchwick's schemes and end up at his mercy; at least, if his entire personality was anything to go by.

The first thing that came up was " **Peter Port ends Huntsman career for life of teaching!"** , and old article on the Vale weekly; dated around 30 years ago. It wasn't massively surprising that not much news had surfaced on the man in his time as a teacher - Beacon kept its affairs relatively separate from the public until events like the Vytal Festival.

She scrolled further down, and her hand froze.

' **Small group of amateur huntsmen, led by Peter Port, fends off army of Grimm in southern Mistral!'**

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. It may have been lost in the sea of random Port droning - but she could _swear_ she had heard the man _talk_ about this in lesson once.

She scrolled down before reaching another article that caught her eye.

' **Behind the Legend: The huntsman with the most resolved cases of all time, Peter Port.'**

… Most… Resolved cases... In huntsman history?

She typed frantically into the search engine once more.

There, sat at the top of the page, was a small list - labelled ' **Official Vytal chart of most venerated Huntsmen in History'** \- and at the very top of it was the name of their Grimm Studies teacher.

Blake slumped back against the library chair.

… Well, she supposed that ruled out Professor Port from any suspicion.

"Jaw dropped? Check. Body limp? Check. Eyes wide? _Also_ check _._ " someone listed behind her, voice peppered with a sarcastic spice, "Yup, guess this is what it looks like when someone finds out about the old coot."

Blake shot out of her chair like a bullet, landing crouched on the table, and turning to meet her own shocked face reflected in the tinted glass of a flashy pair of shades. Attached to the shades was an amused-looking brunette raising her eyebrow.

Blake stared at her blankly.

" _Wow._ That look on your face is _absolutely_ priceless - I reckon it'd fetch me at _least_ a few hundred lien if I framed it." she grinned, and lowered her glasses, holding her fingers out in a square in front of her, "I can see it now. If _only_ I had Vel's camera on me - maybe I could get it when you see what they have on Oobleck."

"... Okay." Blake replied, words getting lost on their way to her mouth - much to her annoyance, "Who… Who are you…?"

"I," she said, fanning her arms out and putting her admittedly impressive attire on full display, "Am Coco Adel, and _you..._ " she then pointed an extremely exaggerated accusatory finger at Blake, "... Are skipping class."

Blake rolled her eyes.

"I'm also Blake, but apparently that's not important." her initial surprise had been worn away, and replaced with growing irritation. And here she had thought Yang was as bad as it got.

"Yeah, I wagered you were Blake. The kid who almost broke the blonde's ankle in initiation, right? The bookworm?"

Blake's eyes widened and she staggered back a little.

"H-how do you know -"

The girl then promptly seized Blake by the shoulder - and she at how her grip felt uncannily similar to a steel _vice_ \- pulled her suffocatingly close and directly out of her comfort zone, and then leaned forward, placing her lips right next to her ear.

"... _Nothing_ gets past curious enough teenagers." she whispered.

Blake then watched as the library tilted a full one-eighty and her head crashed directly into the floor.

"That said, I didn't expect you to be such a rebel, Bookworm Belladonna!" she exclaimed heartily, "I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed!"

Blake scowled as she realised the girl was now sitting cross legged on her chair, scanning through her search history. The girl stopped for a moment, and whistled appreciatively, tilting her glasses down to get a better look.

"... My, _my._ If this was you, you certainly have… _Interesting_ tastes."

Blake hauled herself up, and glanced towards the part of the screen the girl was sticking her thumb toward. It was a page full of searches, all of which included something along the lines of " _Torchwick."_

Coco then scrolled down, pulling up yet more searches on the crime lord.

And more.

And more.

… And… _Even_ more.

And then some.

"... Looks like _someone's_ got a thing for the mysterious new Economics teacher. Trying to see what he'd like by getting the comprehensive low down on his entire history~? I _have_ to admire your dedication!" she purred, propping her chin up with her elbows, "Although, gotta be careful you don't end up all _stalker_ -y. That sends the men packing like wolves!"

Blake cradled her head in her hands.

She would _die_ to have Yang in one of her _worst_ moments over this girl. Every single word she said, and every single time those damnable shades flashed in the light she felt an even more powerful migraine beginning to gnaw through her skull.

"... Can you…" she began, struggling to repress a torrent of screaming and foul language, "... _Not?"_

Coco grinned in response, as if Blake had just told her some kind of ridiculous joke.

"... Nope! You're too interesting - it's not every day you see a girl so _enamoured_ with her teacher."

Blake practically snarled.

"I'm _not…_ 'interested' in him, so to speak."

Coco waved her hand.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. The colour of your cheeks says otherwise -" she then lowered her glasses again in response to Blake's flinch, "- hey, they just got _even_ redder! - anyways, if you want to know a little more about your man, I think I might be able to help you. I'm _always_ willing to help people pursue a five to a seven - the eight to tens are ones I reserve for myself. And Vel. And… Just _maybe…_ Yatsu. I'm never too sure with that guy."

"And…" Blake clawed at her skull through her hair in a vain effort to squeeze the pain in it out, "... Just _what…_ Would you be able to tell me that my… _soliciting_ hasn't already?"

Coco's grin widened to cosmic proportions.

"I doubt the CCT has anything on Torchwick's _illicit_ ventures into Beacon's kitchens!"

Blake's head perked up.

"... _What?_ "

"Yeah, I heard he was getting Goodwitch and even _Oobleck_ in on it too." she wiggled her eyebrows, "... _Saucy._ "

… Torchwick had been up to something in the kitchens? And with Professor Oobleck and Goodwitch?

"Wait, what has he been doing there?"

"I think you'd have to ask one of the two professors." she said, as her tone took on a deadly serious tint, "Although I hear… That it was _quite_ the spectacle."

"What _was_ it?" Blake repeated, her patience already wearing thin.

Sure, this girl _could_ have known more than she initially let on, but Blake could only handle so much cryptic stupidity before she ended up snapping.

"Well…" she said, deliberately drawing out her words in a successful effort to make Blake even more angry.

"Well _what?_ "

Coco shrugged.

"I dunno. They didn't go into specifics."

Blake growled.

"Well, do you know anything _else_ that Torchwick has done?"

Coco looked away, and hummed in thought - although Blake definitely caught sight of the sly smirk on her face as she pretended to consider her answer. This girl _really_ knew how to press all of the right buttons for the detonation sequence of Blake's cool.

After about a minute of doing nothing but waste time, the Coco girl pressed her finger to her lower lip.

"Well… There was that _one_ thing…" she cooed, taking clear delight in how rapidly Blake was stiffening, "... Supposedly, Professor Goodwitch has a _real_ thing for him."

 _Oh, more of_ this.

Blake's patience, unwilling to bear the strain of this girl's ridiculous antics, finally snapped.

"... Okay, thank you for absolutely nothing." she murmured.

"Funny, I'd have thought if you wanted to gain more information on a _boy_ prospect, you'd want to know about potential competition."

"I'm not _interested_ in him! He's a teacher, and not to mention -" Blake caught herself at the last moment, and nearly cursed under her breath.

She'd almost let something rather important slip because she'd lost her calm. That wasn't exactly a mistake she could afford to be making. Not over something this stupid.

"Not to mention, _what…?~_ " Coco was leaning in closer, brown eyes glinting above her once again lowered shades.

 _Deep breaths._

"N-nothing." she cursed herself as she stammered a little more than she wanted.

The girl continued to lean in a little further, before finally giving up; much to Blake's relief.

"Whatever," she muttered, her grin vanishing momentarily, "It's just that Goodwitch tails your Economics teacher almost as much as your teammate. Wait..." she hesitated briefly, tapping her chin, "... Actually, probably _more._ Anyways, I get the feeling that, because of all the stiff-necked professionalism she's had pushing her down this career path, she's actually developed something of a soft spot for _bad boys._ I'll bet she even justifies it as 'inspecting his behaviour', or something pathetic like that - but I'd be careful regardless. She is _quite_ the fox, even if I doubt she'll put those… _assets_ of hers to good use."

Blake massaged her temples.

Would this girl let her back on the damn terminal already?

"Occasionally, she gives him a rather stern _telling off,_ and probably gets off to it as well. Thing is, Torchwick's actually rather slippery - sinking her claws into him has proven _real_ difficult thus far. Guy's as cunning as a crook _._ "

Blake flinched, and glanced upwards - did… Could this girl _actually…?_

"Then again, careers in finance tend to do that to you."

Blake's shoulders slumped right back downwards. Of _course._ How appropriately underwhelming.

"I'd recommend you look into them a little - might learn something pretty helpful."

Blake's face slammed into her palm.

"I don't think I'm interested in learning _anything_ about Professor Torchwick and Goodwitch's relationship, thank you." she growled through gritted teeth.

"Meh. Your loss." Coco leaned back and placed her hands behind her head.

"I _really_ doubt it." Blake retorted, "Now, can I just go back to using this terminal?"

Coco grinned, remaining firmly seated. Blake scowled.

"Nope." she said.

"And _why_ not!?" Blake demanded, voice raised and fists clenched.

"Because," Coco jerked her thumb to Blake's left, "You've got company."

"... Uh, Blake?"

Blake's head snapped round, and met the blue eyes and blonde mop of her partner.

"Oh - um," Blake quickly readopted her typical stance, "Hi, Jaune."

Coco had already gotten up, and quickly disappeared among the rows of bookshelves, pointing a pair of finger guns at Blake before vanishing entirely. Blake grimaced in response.

"So, uh…" Jaune rubbed the back of his head nervously, "What was _that_ about?"

"I don't know," Blake murmured, firmly pinching the bridge of her nose, "I wish I did, but I _really_ don't."

"Huh." Jaune deadpanned. "And the skipping class?"

Blake laughed nervously.

"... It _was_ one of Port's."

Jaune shrugged.

"Fair enough, I guess." he said, "But you _did_ have Ruby pretty worried."

Blake raised an eyebrow.

"... And Yang?"

"Yeah, you can probably guess."

Blake rolled her eyes. No doubt her other blonde teammate had a sufficient number of theories about her sudden disappearance, almost _all_ of them illicit - Yang was also probably looking forward to telling her about all of them in _extreme_ detail the moment they next saw each other.

 _Well,_ _at least I now know that it can't get worse than Coco._

"I think I can." she replied, "And I can't say I like it."

Jaune laughed.

"I guess it'll be nice having Yang's teasing reticle pointed at someone else for a change - there's a limit to what my self-esteem can take."

Blake frowned, but a small smile had already worked its way onto her lips.

"You're just going to throw me to the dogs like that, Vomit Boy?" she joked, "I'm hurt _._ "

Jaune held his hands up in surrender.

"Well, hey, do you blame me?"

"Nope." Blake replied, leaning against the table, "So, what are they up to now?"

"Ruby? Studying. Seriously, she tears through textbooks the size of Ursae before I can even blink now. Yang's off doing goodness knows what. Maybe hassling Ruby?"

" _Definitely_ hassling Ruby." Blake replied, "So, is that why they decided to send _you_ after me?"

"Well, uh…" Jaune fidgeted with his hands nervously, "I actually came after you myself. I… Have something I need to ask."

Blake cocked her head to the side.

"Like what?"

"Would you mind coming to see me tonight? Uh, alone?"

Blake glanced upward, staring directly into Jaune's eyes.

… This was unusual.

"Why?"

Jaune flinched, and his fidgeting grew about ten times faster.

"I-it's… Pretty important. I'd rather not talk about it here." he started glancing around the room nervously, as if checking for eavesdroppers.

Blake's eyes narrowed.

"... I see."

Well, _that_ had her curiosity firmly piqued. Of all the people who would suddenly want to talk to her in private, she definitely hadn't thought it would be Jaune.

"So…" Jaune's glancing around became all the more frantic, "... Are you up for it, or not?"

Just what could this be about? Why would Jaune need to talk to her in private all of a sudden? What could have changed? What did he want to talk to her about?

She looked him in the eyes for a moment, and he immediately broke off eye contact.

Well, she didn't have anything to lose by accepting - Jaune seemed as harmless and good-intentioned as ever.

"Alright. I'll do it." she said. Jaune's shoulders relaxed, and he let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Blake." his serious mood seemed to vanish as he awkwardly glanced to the side, "... So, wanna grab lunch? I'm pretty sure you went straight here without breakfast this morning."

"... I think I'll stay here for a little while longer." Blake said, glancing back at the unattended terminal she'd left behind.

Blake was betrayed by a _very_ audible growl coming from her stomach. Jaune smiled triumphantly.

"Alright, fine." she amended.

As they left the library and headed for the cafeteria to silence her incriminating stomach, Blake's thoughts drifted back to Jaune, as he'd given her that request.

She didn't think she'd ever _seen_ him so nervous before.

*X*

"So," the professor asked Nora, "You _do_ know why you're here, right?"

Nora put her finger to her chin, in deep rumination; scouring the darkest recesses of her mind for even the vaguest hints as to why her Economics teacher had held her back after the rest of her peers and Renny had left. All lesson, she had been hanging off of his every word, and at the very edge of her seat; even as he delved into the most arbitrary quirks of Remnant's financial system - and actively contributing, too; answering a number of questions the Professor asked with unerring accuracy. She had even brought her completed homework in early _just_ to stay in his good graces.

"Nope!" she replied gaily, and when the Professor's expression darkened, she hastily added, "Sorry."

He held his hand aloft, and raised it toward the pristine rows of desks that her cohort used to scrawl a variety of things onto paper, from clean paragraphs to crude phalluses.

" _Still_ no ideas?" he asked.

She dove deep into the pool of her memory once more, seeking an answer to the query of just _what_ had earned her Professor Torchwick's ire. She tried to run through, moment by moment, every single act she had performed that could potentially be construed as a misdeed since the moment she stepped through the classroom door.

And again, she could find nothing.

"Yep!" she affirmed.

The Professor sighed, and began to ascend the steps to the row where, she noted, she and Renny had sat. He then gestured for her to join him - she readily complied.

He then reached over, and with his gloved hand, pointed to the edge of the desk.

It did _not,_ however, shed light on the mystery that confounded her even now.

"Nu-uh, Professor. Still completely clueless."

The Professor sighed in frustration.

"Take a _closer_ look."

She took a few steps forward, and, just there, sitting at the very tip of the otherwise pristine desk, was a small section where the wood had splintered off.

And it was right in front of where she had sat.

"So, do you _finally_ get it?" he asked.

Nora nodded slowly and shamefully.

"I got real excited and kinda sorta maybe accidentally stamped on the desk and damaged it a little?" she answered, nervously clasping her hands together behind her back.

Torchwick nodded gravely.

"That's right. You did."

Nora's shoulders slumped. Of course she would have to go and, in a moment of weakness, completely squander her good relationship with the only remotely interesting academic teacher in the entirety of Beacon.

Over a desk.

"... I didn't mean it…?" she added.

Torchwick nodded.

"No, you didn't. Which is why your punishment won't be _too_ serious, Miss Valkyrie."

Nora gasped.

"... You _mean_ it…?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." he said, a sly smile spreading across his face, "But… I'll need you to do something for me."

"What do you want me to do…?" Nora asked.

It was certainly most unusual for teachers to request anything of _her_ , but for now she wasn't exactly in the position to question him.

"That boy, Lie Ren…" Torchwick hummed, "You know him pretty well, right?"

"Oh, Renny! Yeah, I've known him for _aaaages._ Him and me are like _super besties!"_

Torchwick raised an eyebrow.

"I… See. Well, don't you think he's a little… Quiet?"

Well, he wasn't exactly the most extroverted or flamboyant of characters - but that was just another one of the many things she liked about him. It was merely a facet of his personality.

She told him as much.

"Naw, that's just Renny, Professor!"

"I'm not so sure of that, Miss Valkyrie."

His voice suddenly shifted, becoming tenfold more serious - it left Nora somewhat taken aback.

"Wha…?"

"Listen, Miss Valkyrie," Torchwick began, sitting down at a chair and leaning on his cane, "I once had a colleague and friend, a very close one too, who was quiet and introverted; and seemed to never be too emotional. But it was never cause for concern for the people working at the accountancy - no, as a matter of fact we told ourselves that it was just who he was. Just not a very _talkative_ guy."

Nora felt the familiar pangs of dread perforate throughout her bowels, and her forehead creased in worry. Somehow, she already knew what the climax of this story was going to be - but she decided to enquire further regardless.

"What… Happened to him…?" she asked nervously.

Torchwick sighed, long and deeply - a sigh saturated with sadness and grief.

"One day, I came early into the office and found my friend suspended from the ceiling fan. "

Nora's face fell toward the floor.

"... Oh. Uh, I-I'm sorry."

His quickly resumed his perky demeanour - although she noted it was slightly more brittle - and waved his hand, as if it would dispel the words that had left his mouth from the air around them.

"It's fine, it's fine." he said, "But the thing is, that friend of yours? Your… 'Bestie'? He reminds me a lot of that colleague - and I'd like to do anything I can to prevent anyone else from having the same experience ever again."

Nora chuckled, but her hand flew to the back of her neck nonetheless.

"Well… I really don't think Ren is like that."

Torchwick stood up again, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I understand." he said, meeting her gaze, "But I'd like you to make sure. That'll be your punishment. Now, run along to your dorm - your teammates will get worried otherwise."

"Okay, Professor!" she replied perkily, quickly bounding across the room to the exit.

She turned briefly to wave him farewell, and for a moment she could have sworn there was a malicious-looking grin twisting his countenance. But, it seemed she'd been mistaken - he was merely donning his typical intelligent smile.

As she walked out into the corridor, she realised that she couldn't quite get the professor's task out of her mind.

Surely, it was preposterous! There was _no_ pressing need to perform any kind of psychoanalysis on her bestie - Renny was quiet, and rather brooding, and…

Well - he couldn't have been _suicidal,_ of all things!

… Could he?

*X*

The way Jaune was wandering through the halls was a little off. Blake could tell, since she'd been following him the entire way - he hadn't gotten lost in academy grounds again since the day they'd met, but he was now walking around in confused circles; as if Beacon was actually a labyrinthine dungeon from one of her books.

 _It's like he's trying to throw pursuers off of his trail._

… Perhaps it was a little early to draw a conclusion like that, but Blake's instincts wouldn't have it any other way. And she certainly wasn't about to tell them they were wrong. Not with how far they'd gotten her up until now.

She strained her ears - all four of them - to try and listen for the telltale _thuds_ of pursuing footsteps.

… Nothing. There were no sounds to be heard within at least a hundred metres, save for Jaune's awkward footfalls and her own near-silent ones. Unless her hearing had failed her - but she certainly doubted that would start happening _now_ of all times; Yang was loud and boisterous, but not _that_ loud and boisterous - or the pursuer was some sort of highly-trained ninja, they were alone in the halls of Beacon.

Then again, she supposed he wouldn't know that, being the one without four ears and all.

He began to walk up to a door, took one final panicked glance in both directions, then sighed, relaxed, and opened it; revealing a set of stairs on the other side. He gestured for Blake to walk through.

"So," she said, as she began her ascent up the narrow, clammy and slightly disconcerting stairs, "Are you going to explain why you suddenly needed to talk to me _alone_ now?"

Jaune laughed nervously.

"Whatever Yang was saying, I can assure you that she was wrong."

"Telling me that won't stop the eyebrow wiggling and knowing glances, Jaune. You must have had a reason important enough to make putting up with that worth it."

"Well… I, uh…"

He opened a second door, and Blake was assailed by a rush of cold night air. They were out on Beacon's rooftops; perhaps in some kind of maintenance area - surrounded by stars on all sides. Small lights glittered from the various buildings out on campus, and very occasionally Blake could hear laughter from some of the dorm rooms beneath them. The night, for the most part, was a silent one.

So long as they were quiet enough, no one would be able to hear or see them. Which made it the perfect place for a private conversation.

"... I need to ask you something, Blake. Something pretty important." he said.

Blake narrowed her eyes. There was something off about his tone of voice - something distinctly different from the normal Jaune. It seemed too _serious._ If her curiosity was burning before, it was now a fully fledged inferno.

"And what would that _something_ be?" she asked.

Jaune tapped his hands against his sides nervously, before taking a deep breath, and looking her straight in the eyes.

"What do you think of Professor Torchwick?"

… _What?_

"... Why do you ask?"

Jaune scratched the back of his head for a moment.

"Well, I mean - don't you think he seems a bit… Odd?"

Blake's head whirled. Perhaps if this was any other teacher, she'd be a lot less worried - but this was about _Torchwick._ And while it wouldn't have meant much if it were brought up in passing conversation, he'd brought her all the way out here to have it - and that was everything _discluding_ his strange behaviour in the library and on the way here.

… Had Jaune gotten involved with the crime lord in some way?

Her eyes narrowed. She _needed_ to know more - and merely telling him what she thought of the Professor wouldn't achieve that.

"Why do you think he's so _odd_ in particular? Compared to someone like Professor Port, Torchwick is decidedly _normal._ "

"W-well; it's hard to explain - y'see… Uh…" Jaune was blatantly fumbling for something - anything to say.

It was the behaviour of someone who had something to hide, but didn't know how to hide it.

He shook his head, and collected himself.

"There's something… _Wrong_ about the way he acts. Like he's in on some weird joke that no one else is - and it freaks me out a bit. And…"

Blake's eyebrow arched upwards.

" _And…?"_

"And, from the way you tense up whenever he's around, or mentioned, I dunno - I guess I believed you thought so too."

"Well, he _is_ pretty intimidating, Jaune." she replied.

"Not more than Professor Goodwitch, Blake -"

"But, I _do_ tense up when Professor Goodwitch is nearby. _Everyone_ does."

"- but not in the same way! When Ruby brought him up in our dorm, you looked like…" he paused for a moment, clutching his forehead, "... You looked like you did in the Emerald Forest at initiation. Like _something_ was going to spring out and attack you at any moment."

"And why would that be?" Blake asked, "Why would I be afraid of Torchwick attacking me?"

Jaune's shoulders slumped.

"... I don't know. That's what I want to find out. I think _you_ know something about him that I don't."

"And you think that just because I _tense up_ whenever he's around that I know more about him than you do? That's a little ridiculous, Jaune. What if it's nothing more than what you have? Just a _bad feeling._ "

"... It isn't, though, Blake. I can tell that much just from listening to you speak. Noone gets this defensive over a _bad feeling_."

He stared her directly in the eyes - and, for the first time since she'd met her awkward, gangly blonde partner, he looked _angry_. It wasn't a look fit for him - even while returning his look with challenging glare of her own, she couldn't really bring herself to believe what she was seeing.

"I could say the same of you, Jaune. Why take me up here, in the dead of night, over a _bad feeling?_ Why glance around every corner as if there's someone out there watching you? Is that a _bad feeling_ too?"

"Why do you have to be like this…?" he took a deep breath, and clenched his fists, " _Why_ do you suddenly have to be so suspicious, Blake? I don't _understand!"_

"... Because I'm concerned, Jaune." she replied. She didn't even realise she'd said it until the moment Jaune simply… Stopped.

His shoulders stilled, and then dropped, and a sad smile transfixed his face. All of the frustration and anger left his eyes in a single blink.

"... Yeah. Of course you're concerned." he sighed,and dropped to the ground with his head in his hands, "I feel like such an idiot. Did I seriously think I could just ask you to tell me everything you knew about our Economics teacher, and then just like that, you'd reply? With no context at all? When I _knew_ that you didn't want to talk about your past?"

Slowly, a dry laugh escaped his lips.

"Yeah, I really _was_ stupid." he remarked, "I… I'm sorry, Blake, but I just… I _can't_ tell you why now - but,"

He looked at her once again.

"I _promise_ ," he said, putting his hand to his heart, "That this will be the only thing I ever ask from you, Blake. And someday, I'll tell you exactly why I needed to do this, but…"

He took a deep, shaky breath.

"For now, I need you to just _trust_ me. _Please._ "

Blake could hardly even speak. She tried, for a bit, but found herself entirely lost for words.

This was her partner, her teammate, and - heck - her _friend_ she was talking to. Someone who had never questioned her _once_ before, even with some of the more… _Dubious_ things she'd said.

And here she was, completely unable to return the favour - no matter _how_ worried she was, she at least owed this much to him.

She smiled.

"Alright, Jaune. I trust you." she said, reaching out her arm to him, "And I'll tell you what you -"

"And now, _kiss!"_ a new, third voice announced loudly from behind them.

She glanced back frantically.

Standing there was Roman Torchwick, leaning casually on his cane and grinning. Her eyes widened, and her hands began to shake. A cursory glance to her partner's face revealed he was much worse off - he looked like he was reliving the worst nightmare he'd ever had, and then some.

"... Oh, was I interrupting something?" he drawled, mock surprise laced in his tone of voice, "Dreadfully sorry. I just thought I might inform you that if you wanted a nice, moonlit conversation…"

He gestured to the sign on the door they'd come through. It read, in bold, red letters, ' **STAFF ONLY.'**

"... You should do it elsewhere on school grounds."

 _Just how long had he been there? How much had he heard?_ Various questions whirled around her mind in a chaotic, disorganised and frantic hurricane - collecting these thoughts was all but impossible.

She wasn't able to move even as the professor grabbed both of them by the shoulders, and then herded them from the rooftop. She remained dazed as he lead them both through the hallways, before finally reaching the wing of the building reserved for student living quarters.

It was only once the pair of them were stood at the door of their own dorm that she was finally able to still her spinning head and force any words out of her mouth.

"How… How did you find us?" she breathed out, throat frozen from the chill creeping throughout her entire body.

He looked her in the eyes, and his grin widened.

"Well, I saw Mister Arc wandering around the building aimlessly, looking _rather_ distressed," he explained slowly, evidently enjoying the clear panic on both of their faces, "... So, like any other self-respecting teacher would, I followed along. And then I saw you steal away to a restricted area of the building, so I took you both out."

He'd… Followed them? With the meandering route Jaune had taken, he would had to be nearby to not lose track of them. At least, well within the range of her hearing.

And yet Blake hadn't caught wind of a single footfall that hadn't belonged to her or Jaune.

"What… Are you going to do?" Jaune barely whispered. He was completely petrified, with a shell-shocked look on his face.

"Absolutely nothing, Mister Arc. The Headmaster will _not_ hear of this, so you can both calm down. Neither, for that matter, will Professor Goodwitch."

The teacher swiped his scroll across the sensor beside the door, and it promptly clicked open.

 _So, I can't hear him walking around, and he has unfettered access to our dorms?_

A shiver ran down Blake's spine.

As the door opened completely, she was met face to face with the slightly confused faces of Ruby and Yang - the former sitting at her bedside, a titanic textbook sitting on her lap, the latter having just pulled her face out from behind her scroll.

"Blake! Jaune!" Ruby exclaimed cheerfully, dashing over to the pair immediately, "And… Professor Torchwick?"

"Miss Rose, Miss Xiao-Long." Torchwick greeted in response, tipping his hat theatrically.

Blake was still lost for words.

Yang frowned.

"What _happened_ to you two? You look like you've seen a ghost." she asked.

"Well, Miss Xiao-Long, these two…" he proceeded to clap them both on the backs, hard enough to shove them both into the dorm room, "... Were out in an isolated, out-of-bounds region of campus, late at night, and on their own."

Yang's eyes lit up, and Ruby's widened.

"I think it's relatively obvious what these two lovebirds were up to."

Torchwick then shut the door, leaving Blake and Jaune addled and trapped in a room with a predatory blonde.

"Oh _reaaally_ ~?" she cooed, shifting her gaze from the door to the unfortunate pair. Ruby burst out into a light series of giggles. "Blakey, why didn't you just _tell_ me you had a thing for Vomit Boy?"

Blake wanted to make a witty retort - probably something to do with motion sickness - but any potential remarks had been squashed under the heavy panic that had settled over her entire body.

She'd been wary of Torchwick before - avoiding him, and trying not to draw too much attention to herself in lesson - but now, she'd gone and neatly painted a target on her own head. If she wanted to investigate the man further, she'd have to be careful - his eyes were on her now.

And it was that thought that kept hers firmly open, long into the unusually cold and unforgiving night.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **Bomberguy:** **I wouldn't sell Glynda or Oobleck short. Just... Keep that in mind for now. Anyways, the gang war shall obviously be started by Peaches - as you said, it's _always_ the quiet** **ones.**

 **Sani: Well... You never see Peaches once in the entire show, and it's for good reason.**

 **Sammael: Don't worry, this is _no_ tragedy. This is probably the only time I'll spoil myself, but I definitely don't plan on Torchwick dying. As for potential backfiring plans... Well, you'll see.**

 **DragonDude: Gimme a sec, it's time to write "The Zany Shenanigans of Oobleck and Torchwick." Coming soon (maybe).**

 **And I say "maybe" because this is more/less exactly what the announcement I wanted to make entailed!  
**

* * *

 **Super Special Announcement Thingy**

 **With the oncoming exams, it may be a while before I can get any new chapters out on a regular basis again, but it _will_ mean I'll have time to work on a side project of sorts to come back with.**

 **This side project shall be a small side fic, likely a one shot, set in the universe of Lawbreaker to Lecturer, that _you_ get to decide! Just cast your vote by naming two characters, and then saying _why_ you'd want to see them in a fic together. Ideally, it would be posted in the reviews - but DMing me is fine as well.**

The pair of characters with the most votes wins - or, if there aren't enough votes to go around, the pairing will be of the two most common characters picked.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** **So, I got my exams firmly out of the way now and now have a frankly criminal amount of time free, so I finally got the opportunity to come out with this extra long chapter of From Lawbreaker to Lecturer!**

 **Now, I didn't actually get too many votes for the pairing poll, so I'm holding off on making the one shot for now. As a result, those of you who haven't voted yet still have a chance to have a say in the one shot I'll end up coming out with.**

 **As always, review responses at the bottom.**

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

This was all too familiar. The same old bodies in the same old darkness. The same old child, standing in front of them, shivering.

The same old thoughts flashing through her head.

 _There was something wrong with the people in front of her. They were all piled up, a mess of arms and legs and despite that, they didn't so much as move an inch to try and untangle themselves. Their eyes were glazed over, and none of them blinked. Their mouths were open, as if to scream, but no noise came out._

 _They were bleeding, and they didn't so much as twitch when she prodded them, hoping against hope that they would give her a response._

 _They were dead, weren't they? That was what a corpse looked like. She'd heard about them before, in the stories read to her, but she'd never thought she'd have to look at one herself._

She'd get used to it eventually - but not then. Not in that claustrophobic hell, when she was nothing but a child.

 _She stopped, and a tear rolled down her cheek._

 _The stench was too much. She didn't think it would ever go away - stuck in her brain till eventually she was an adult herself. It made her head spin and her legs wobble and made the tears rush down her face quicker._

 _Was she… Going to end up like them? Piled up in this awful place? Her screams going unheard?_

She didn't, of course. She would one day come out of that place, having survived where so many others had perished. But she hadn't known that then, had she?

 _A tug on her arm returned her to her senses._

" _Come on." he urged, "We need to keep moving."_

 _She couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to budge, even an inch. Somehow, it felt like she was being crushed by the weight of hundreds and hundreds of buildings and nothing could even make her fingers twitch._

 _The tears came on a little stronger._

 _He turned back, and then sighed in frustration - and what she would one day realise was also concern. He dropped to one knee, gently rested his hands on her shoulders, and looked her straight in the eye._

" _Don't look at them." he said, voice steeled and calm even with the horror and pitch black darkness filling everything around them. "... They don't matter, okay? They're_ dead _. We aren't. And sitting around and feeling sad for them will only make us easier targets. The only people we should care about…"_

 _He closed his eyes, and she realised that he was shaking._

" _The only people we should care about are right here. You and I. And no one else."_

*X*

The first thing she saw as her eyes snapped open was an unfamiliar ceiling. White. Plain. Also garish, with flecks of chipped paint here and there. A single exposed light bulb dangled from the centre of it, flickering - probably as an attempt to hide its embarrassment at the lack of a lampshade.

Roman would _hate_ it.

With her hand resting on her aching head, she pulled herself upward to take in her surroundings.

It seemed like she was hooked up to a large amount of medical equipment - a variety of fluids were being pumped into her arm from a colourful collection of plastic bags. She also had an oxygen mask clamped around her mouth uncomfortably. It wasn't there for long.

The drab room she was in and the threadbare bed she was lying on were about as appropriately underwhelming as the ceiling. The walls were covered in faded paint, and a few suspicious-looking stains on them immediately told her that she probably wasn't in a legal hospital.

She eyed the rubber tubes pumping blood, and what was presumably - hopefully - aura booster into her veins suspiciously. They were gone shortly afterward, too.

Lastly, she turned to the pair of girls cowering in the corner. What with their getups, they most certainly didn't look like nurses - they looked far too gaudy and unprofessional - and last she remembered nurses rarely felt the need to plaster _that_ much makeup on their faces when their sole patient was entirely comatose.

Everything about this room and the people in it was substandard - in every sense of the word. Which could only mean one thing.

She'd woken up in a hospital bed at Junior's place.

And, no matter how much she tried to sift through her memories, she couldn't work out quite _how._

She turned once more to the two broads in the corner, who began to shiver a _lot_ more quickly as her eyes met theirs. The urge to give them a wink was _overwhelming_ ; but she held it down. It would definitely be funny to see them running in terror, but she had bigger problems at the moment.

Those being precisely what the shimmering letters that flickered into existence in front of her asked.

' **Explain.'**

The two stared at her, in a brief state of shock - their eyes wide open and mouths flapping uselessly.

"W-what?"

She rolled her eyes, and they began to shiver just a bit faster.

' **What am I doing here?'**

"W-wait, y-you _seriously_ don't know!?" asked the girl in red, with a dissatisfactory amount of sass in her voice - it was gone as soon as she narrowed her eyes a little.

"You - you arrived at the club late at night, horribly beaten up and - and Junior helped you out."

Her eyes narrowed once again - only this time, out of curiosity.

' **Why am I here and not at Roman's?'**

The pair's eyes widened, and their breath caught.

"You do realise there _is_ no 'Roman's' anymore, right?" asked the white one.

"Torchwick's been gone for almost a month now. Everyone who's anyone in Vale's gutters is freaking out about it."

Wait… Roman was _gone?_

The realisation struck her like she was directly in front of a speeding truck. It struck her like that old man had outside of Beacon, where Roman was currently being kept. Where she'd gone and failed to get him out.

Where she'd let him down.

She was out of the room immediately, leaving the door spinning off of its hinges into the wall opposite. Any of the uniformed men in her way met a similar fate - she wasn't in the mood for being stopped.

One of them ran forward and attempted to grab her, shouting something or other - she wasn't really paying attention. A clean hit to the groin had him down, but not out; he was still able to shout and attract yet more annoyances.

She frowned. _How irritating._

Progressively, more and more of them attempted to pile on her - more than, for whatever reason, she was able to throw off; she simply continued walking forward with them clinging to her legs. It was only once there were about five people holding on to all four of her limbs that she was finally brought to a halt.

She attempted to shake them off once more, and although they wailed in terror, not a single one of them was dislodged.

She frowned. This should've been much easier - why were people even _trying_ to stop her getting out? Why was she unable to stop them trying to stop her?

Before long, she was being mobbed on every side by a literal _wall_ of mooks. Instead of trying to throw them off, this time she lashed out with well placed jabs and kicks - and all it did was cause them to keel over and get in the way _more._

She was buried under an enormous pile of suited men by the time Junior finally decided to show his annoying, unshaven face.

"Y'know," he remarked, "For someone with injuries like the ones you had, I'd have guessed you'd want more rest."

She scowled, and he took a great, heaving sigh.

"If I get those men off of you, do you _promise_ not to either kill them or bolt for the door?" he held his hands out - a gesture of peace.

Her eyes traced a wide, sarcastic arc to let him know just how much she cared.

"... I'm gonna need more than that."

Her forehead creased - and she could've sworn she felt a vein pop - but eventually she managed to find the end of her patience, work her way back, and then slowly nod. With a wave of Junior's hand, and some painful, masculine groans from his henchmen, the pile was cleared and she was finally able to stand on her own two feet again - and discreetly jab one of them in the shin.

' **Why are you trying to stop me from leaving?'**

Junior's eyebrow arched upward.

"Because if I let you out there, I get the feeling you'll head straight back to Beacon to find your boss. Am I right?"

She bit her lip, unable to respond.

"Yeah." he murmured, placing a hand to his forehead and letting it run down his face, "That's about what I figured. Look, kid, you may be tough for your age but the kind of people working for Beacon are _not_ the kind you can handle. Sure, compared to a two-bit crook, or me, you might be completely untouchable, but in the face of someone who's been fighting the deadliest freaks in Remnant for around twenty years at the _least_? Even in prime condition, you'd be fucked."

Her eyes narrowed.

' **And why does that matter to** _ **you?'**_

He held up his hands defensively.

"Don't get me wrong," he replied, "I definitely wanna help Roman. Shadier and shadier people are showing up around town looking to become the next big shot, and it's bad for business. So, when I figure out how to haul his ass back then I think I'd rather you be alive to say hi. Otherwise, I think my peace and quiet might be a little short-lived."

Her teeth ground against one another in exasperation, and her eyes quickly met the floor.

"Look, kid, I get the feeling… I _really_ do. But at the moment, there's nothing we can do but sit around and wait for a chance to show up. Until then, uh..." he scratched the back of his head nervously, "You can shack up here if you want, I guess."

Her eyes shot back upwards, followed shortly by her left eyebrow.

' **Name your price.'**

"U-uh, that's fine. I look after the girls for free anyways, so it's really not much off my -"

Neo frowned indignantly, inciting a sigh from the bartender.

"... Okay, I guess there is _one_ thing you could do. You might not be in great shape, but…" he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, "Would you mind, like, giving some drinks to the people working on reconstruction?"

' **That's it?'**

"I mean, I can't exactly think of anything better for you to do, so -"

She couldn't exactly hold it back anymore - she burst out into peals of silent laughter. Junior looked a little taken aback for a moment, before he relaxed. Moments later, there was a smile on his face.

As much as it hurt to admit - as much as she _hated_ the very thought of it, Junior wasn't wrong.

It looked like for now, she'd have to bide her time, pushing her thoughts about whatever horrible things were happening to Roman to the back of her mind.

Whatever terrible, unspeakable, _awful_ things…

*X*

Torchwick grit his teeth in frustration as the black-coloured ball fell into a hole at the corner of the green felt table.

"And that, Roman, is my victory." the bespectacled man responsible mused, before turning his eyes upward and giving Torchwick just the _vaguest_ hint of a smug gleam in them. "Well played!"

As much as it hurt Torchwick to admit it, Oobleck was _painfully_ good at this. Sure, it was all too easy to blame it on years of experience as a huntsmen giving him good judgement; but if the other one's performance was anything to go by, that didn't seem to mean much.

His eyes narrowed.

"I'd like a rematch." Torchwick grumbled.

Oobleck chuckled.

"Most certainly!"

"Hang on a moment…" Port murmured grouchily, his moustache bristling with apparent disapproval, "Wasn't it winner stays on?"

"Peter," Oobleck placed his hand on his colleague's shoulder, eyebrows raised in sympathy, "That's only for when victory _isn't_ a foregone conclusion,"

The man jolted as if shot - before his chest swelled, filling with the indignation he was now breathing in through his nostrils instead of air.

"Why - how could you, Bart!?" he cried, letting it all out of his chest in a single, ear-rupturing blast, "I'm perfectly good at this - this _blasted_ bar game!"

Torchwick rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Belt Buster, but I have evidence to the contrary and a witness ready to testify,"

Oobleck placed his hand to his chest.

"It's true, Peter. I saw it with my own two eyes." he murmured, his attempt at sounding solemn somewhat betrayed by his barely stifled laughter, "You've committed crimes against pool the likes of which can never be forgiven."

Port scoffed, evidently trying to find some kind of retort - a search that, from the way he abruptly fell silent, was fruitless.

"Guilty as charged," quipped Torchwick.

The three were pulled from their banter by the sound of a sharp series of knocks on the door.

"Ten lien says it's Miss Rose," said Oobleck.

"Another ten says it's Miss Schnee," added Port.

They said it so quickly and casually it was almost as if it were reflexive - Torchwick's brow furrowed for a moment, before he returned to his default grin.

It looked like they _could_ surprise him, after all.

"I'll add ten more on Miss Rose." he finished.

They turned their gazes to the doorknob, their expressions grave, as Torchwick went to let their unexpected guest in. The tension in the air was almost palpable - by the time Torchwick was twisting the handle, there was a tingling like static throughout his entire body.

The door swung open, and on the other side, Torchwick was greeted by the sight of silvery white hair.

He could _feel_ Port's smug grin bearing into him like the glare of a spotlight.

"Ah… Miss _Schnee_ ," Torchwick said, through gritted teeth, "Did you need something?"

The girl looked up at him, donning her usual dull, polite smile.

"I don't mean to intrude, Professor, but I came to ask you something,"

Torchwick clamped down on the raging desire to roll his eyes at the comically polite request.

"So?" Torchwick asked drily.

The Schnee looked taken aback for a moment.

"Wha -"

"So, what do you want?"

She coughed to clear her throat, and regain her composure.

"I came to ask for some additional work in return for extra credit."

"I think she's scared Miss Rose is catching up to her grades!"

He caught Port's remark from behind him drifting through the air. From her sudden blush and indignant stutter, the Schnee did too - given that Port's throat seemed better built for usage as a foghorn, it was rather hard to miss.

"W-well, r-regardless -"

"Sure," Torchwick confirmed, bluntly.

Her eyes widened.

"R - really?"

The irritation from earlier had subsided entirely, causing elation to slowly spread its way throughout his body, and a grin to creep across his cheeks.

"Well, of course, Miss Schnee. It's really nothing off of my plate, but…" he suppressed his urge to laugh at her intake of breath, "... I'm afraid I won't make this easy for you. I'm not going to award extra credit simply because you did more of the same work everyone else has done already."

"That's really quite alright. I'm sure I'll be able to handle it, Professor,"

The excitement glowing in her eyes was simply _adorable._ She had such complete faith in her own ability - her own special brand of narcissism, Torchwick supposed. It was certainly what you'd expect from someone born with a silver snowflake up their ass.

He wasn't lying to her. He wasn't going to make this easy for her in the slightest.

He was immediately pulled from his thoughts by the Port klaxon coming from the staff room once again.

"Why, I'd recommend she includes her _team_ in this activity!" he boomed, "If she does, it means further commendations for leadership ability on her student record as well as putting her team further up the rankings for academics!"

Her eyes widened like saucers at the old huntsman's comment - and this time, she didn't stifle her excitement. Torchwick, on the other hand, found himself grinning like a madman. Port had inadvertently just made the Schnee show ten thousand times more entertaining.

"Yeah," he murmured, locking eyes with the white-haired heiress, "That sounds like a _great_ idea, Professor. What would you say to that, Miss Schnee?"

"I'll do it!" she shouted excitedly before beginning to bounce on her feet.

… _Perfect._

The Schnee said her polite, mundane goodbyes, which he returned; watching as she wandered off down the corridor to her teammates.

He smiled, walking back into the staff room, returning to another crushing game of pool with Oobleck. And, of course, trying not to notice the shadow that had been lurking at the edges of the corridor the entire time, watching him.

*X*

Pyrrha had always loved libraries. They were places where silence and not drawing attention to yourself were more or less a rule of law - one that people had to follow, whatever celebrity may have been quietly reading in their vicinity.

Not to mention it was very easy to shake some of the more… Persistent fans through the mazes of bookshelves.

It helped that she actually liked being in them, too. The peace and tranquil soothed her mind, and helped her think. The act of losing herself in a fictional or faraway world through reading helped her get away from her own; one filled with camera flashes, questions, and red carpets. The dusty, still air was undoubtedly a clean break from the sweaty, humid vapours of the gym she spent so much time training in, as well - and most certainly an appreciated one.

She flipped the page once more, eyes glazed over.

… Okay, she wasn't actually focusing on the book at all.

Frustrated, she massaged her temples. It seemed trying to sit down and read had made her mind veer off course from the fantastical worlds she wanted to visit and sent her directly back to her own troubling thoughts.

In all honesty, she knew why she was here. It didn't really matter where she was, so long as she was outside of her team's dorm room, and away from her team's leader.

She rested her head on the palm of her hand, and sighed in frustration.

Only to flinch as she was met with a sudden poke to the forehead.

"... Hello, Yang."

The blonde brawler lifted her hand from Pyrrha's face, before bringing it down to her hip - her other arm was almost entirely occupied with her little sister, and for all her squirming she wasn't likely to go anywhere.

"Hey Pyrrha!"

"Y-Yang, this is embarrassing - let - let go…!" Ruby protested, trying and failing to escape her elder's vice grip.

Pyrrha glanced back at Yang, eyebrows raised.

"She keeps blowing me off to study. So I decided to confiscate her books until I get to return the favour." Yang explained, a sadistic grin spreading across her cheeks.

"I… See."

"Tell her to stop, Pyrrha!" Ruby pleaded, arms flailing wildly and coming dangerously close to knocking some books off of the shelves, "This is injustice! Tyranny! Blatant neglect of sisterly responsibility!"

"The fact that you can say stuff like that now proves it to me, Rubes." Yang drawled, "You're _reading_ too much. It's bad for your cuteness."

Ruby tried to respond, but came up short - seeing there was no ground to be gained with her sister, she set her sights on Pyrrha instead.

"You _see?_ She's so _mean!"_

Pyrrha let a nervous chuckle escape - eyes darting between Ruby's pleading silver ones and Yang's smug lilacs.

"Well…" Pyrrha struggled to search for the correct thing to say, "I don't believe there's any exams coming up, so I don't really see why you'd _need_ to study so much...?"

Yang threw her arms up in the air.

"Exactly!" she cried.

"But how am I supposed to get Weiss to respect me if I slack off?"

"Why do you feel the need to get the Ice Queen to _like_ you? She doesn't _like_ anyone, Rubes. It's how she got called the Ice Queen!"

"W-well that's because she doesn't think any of us are good enough for her yet, Yang! We can prove her wrong, right?"

"What, you think someone being better than her is enough to stop her being nasty? Come on, Rubes, you're the one that completely trumped her in a fight. If you were right, she'd be fawning all over you right now!"

"Professor Torchwick told me that that's the kind of victory she _wouldn't_ accept, though! If… If I can beat her in every area, then I'm _certain_ I can become her friend. Just watch!"

Pyrrha didn't sympathise.

Yang was right. Weiss Schnee didn't _like_ anyone. To her, other people were nothing more than a nuisance - even her own teammates - and the only people she even bothered with pretending to care about were the people she could use to get ahead.

Pyrrha then realised that the pair's arguing had been replaced with complete silence. She looked up to see them both staring at her as if she'd grown an extra head.

"Straight from the mouth of her teammate, Ruby." said Yang, quickly resuming her usual swagger, "Guess I was right after all."

… Wait, had she been thinking all those things about her leader… Out loud?

A furious blush crept its way onto her cheeks.

"Um, p-please don't tell her I said that." she stuttered frantically.

"That'd involve talking to her, so…" Yang joked with an easy grin, "Yeah, you can count on me for that much, Pyrrha."

"Yang…!" Ruby protested, before sighing and shaking her head in apparent disappointment, "Pyrrha, you're her teammate, right? Aren't team members supposed to get along?"

"Well…" Pyrrha murmured, scratching her cheek nervously, "... Our leader makes things… _difficult._ "

Yang stared at her blankly.

"You _can_ tell us more about this stuff, y'know."

"No, it's just that -"

The blonde raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Pyrrha sighed.

"... Weiss is the exact kind of person I came to Beacon to avoid. I… Remember when I said she uses people to get ahead?"

The pair in front of her slowly nodded.

"Well…" she continued, "I know that because _I'm_ one of those people. She puts me on a pedestal and treats me as if I never have to do anything while treating the other two members of our team with an attitude bordering on tyrannical. She strives to meet these absurd standards for her team members that none of them even want."

"... That bad, huh?" Ruby whispered.

"I barely know anything about my other two team members. I don't ever get the opportunity to talk to them because whenever they approach me, our _leader_ whisks them away as if they're wasting my time, but…" she clenched her fists underneath the table, "But… I _want_ to talk to them! I _want_ to make friends! And _she_ wants to throw all of that away in the name of _doing well._ And all I can do is sit and watch while she tears our team apart!"

It seemed that Pyrrha had been so caught up in the moment she hadn't realised how emotional she'd gotten. She was now standing up in the middle of the library, her hands shaking and her breath heavy. The two sisters had both fallen dead silent, grave looks on their faces.

Pyrrha straightened up, and rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"Um, sorry… I got a bit emotional there."

Moments passed in which nothing was said between the three of them, before the stillness was at last broken…

… With Yang poking her painfully on the forehead.

"Pyrrha… What do you _mean_ all you can do is sit and watch while your team is torn apart?" the blonde asked nonchalantly.

"Wh - what do I mean? I mean that I can't do anythi -"

"Yeah you can! It seems pretty clear she wants to suck up to you, right?"

"Well, yes, bu -"

"So… Just stand up to her. I'm sure a good roasting from the only teammate she wants to impress would thaw the Ice Queen's frosty attitude!"

"What if that doesn't work?"

"What _if_ it doesn't work? What could happen to you? From what you've _just_ said, I get the feeling that anything would be better than what you currently put up with, right?"

"And, if it really does get worse," Ruby added, "You could still totally talk to the faculty about it! I'm sure Professor Torchwick would help if you asked him!"

"The solution to your problem is literally staring you in the face, Pyrrha. You only have to do a little work yourself. Not too bad, right?"

"I…"

Pyrrha was taken aback. Lost for words. Shocked. It seemed so mind-numbingly obvious in hindsight. Such a simple, clear path towards a happier time at Beacon.

And yet…

She looked down at her slightly trembling hand.

"... I need some time to think about it." she finished.

"Alright." Yang said, comfortably grinning once more, "Me and Rubes 'll head off and leave you to it. See you later, Pyrrha!"

The blonde and her sister quickly rounded the corner and were out of sight.

Pyrrha remained seated, still staring at her open palm.

The solution was _so_ obvious that she almost cursed herself for not seeing it sooner.

There really weren't any drawbacks to taking a stand, certainly, and Ruby was definitely right when she said Pyrrha could easily just consult the staff if anything went wrong. It would be as simple as standing up, looking her leader straight in the eyes, and repeating everything she'd said to her friends.

But…

It was illogical, irrational and all things considered, ridiculous, but - somehow - the thought of taking a stand…

It scared her.

*X*

Ren opened his eyes.

A single glance out of the window behind him to inspect the position of the rising sun told him his wake up time was off. Unusual. By how much?

He turned to look at his alarm clock. It was caved in completely, the screen shattered beyond repair and some of the internal silicon boards poking out at abnormal angles. No doubt Nora's doing. He sighed, and tried to pull the duvet off of himself and sit up.

He did not succeed, as it seemed someone had placed bindings around his arms and legs.

Definitely Nora's doing. To what end? Uncertain. It was unusual for her not to be asleep at this hour as of recently. After all, she gleaned an immense amount of entertainment from the fraying of their leader's nerves - he did too - and not waking up in the morning was an easy way of doing so.

A closer glance at the bindings revealed they were a series of rope knots, about as thick as a man's arm with complexity that could make a veteran sailor scratch his head in confusion. They were also, Ren noted, about twice as thick as they were the last six times she had done this.

She seriously wanted him to stay in bed this morning. Unusual.

He took a look around the entire room. It seemed that, of the three other occupants of the room, only two were currently here. Even though he was unable to move his body properly, he could spy the champion's scarlet hair against her pillow, and could make out the strange murmuring of their leader in her sleep.

He could not, however, make out the form of Nora wrestling the mattress in her typical fashion, nor hear her usual muffled cackling.

Although the broken alarm clock made it difficult to tell, this should have been at least two hours before her typical wake up time.

He sighed. If whatever Nora was up to required him being tied to a bed, he undoubtedly had an obligation to stop her. He eased his mind, closing his eyes - and slowly, he began to feel the ebb and flow of his Aura, both above his skin and deep within him.

He opened his eyes once again, and looked to his left hand - now glowing a soft purple from the essence of his soul residing within. A single twitch, and the tangle of rope snapped like a rubber band.

In moments, he had repeated the process with each of his limbs. He quickly jumped out of bed, inspecting the room for any of her booby traps - and there were none to be found. No glints of tripwire, no strategically placed cinder blocks above doors… _Nothing._

Did she truly not expect to return by the time their leader or the champion had risen from bed?

The thought of it perplexed him further. This mystery was certainly intriguing.

It was time to find out what Nora was up to.

Tracking her was a matter of patience. The girl's time spent alone with him in the wilderness had not been for nothing: Nora was a deceptively stealthy person when she so desired.

But, for all her experience, nothing could ever _truly_ hide her from him - clearing his head once again, he inhaled the air around him through his nose, sifting through the multitudinous mingling scents of the school. The smell of carpet. Of drying paint. Of dusty air. The slight lingering presence of sweat from students from the previous day. The faint whiff of overpoweringly strong coffee.

His eyes snapped open as one last, faint yet familiar smell, one from blatantly far across the building, met his nostrils. He began to trudge his way through the halls, tracking down its likely source. This was… Certainly unusual for this early in the morning, but with the strange way the ridiculous became the routine with his childhood friend, he could definitely handle it.

He finally came to a stop outside the doors of Beacon's cafeteria, before briskly tapping the door three times with his knuckles.

The door creaked open by a few inches, and a single turquoise eye peered at him from the other side - before widening and disappearing from view, followed by the door slamming shut abruptly.

Ren knocked again.

"Nora," he said, "Can you let me in?"

"J-j-just a sec, Renny!"

… No password joke? He'd expected something like that. He wasn't usually wrong with Nora.

This was somewhat worrying.

"Nora… What are you even doing in there?"

The door widened fully, and he was met with the sight of his childhood friend nervously grinding her feet against the floor, and… Averting her gaze from him.

"Uh, hi Ren… How did you find me here…?"

"I followed the smell of pancake batter. Where else would you be?"

"Ah." she smacked her forehead loudly, "Yeah, 'course you did, Renny. What was I thinking?"

"Why the ropes?"

"I figured you'd… Catch on that I, uh… Didn't want you to come looking for me - I - I wanted it to be a _surprise_ , y'know?"

Ren raised an eyebrow.

"It would never surprise me that you were eating pancakes, Nora. Even at this hour."

Nora began to bite her lip nervously. Stuttering. Stammering. Signs of shyness. Lack of things to say. _Lip-biting._ This… Wasn't normal for Nora.

 _A joke might break the tension._

"Waffles perhaps, but pancakes? No."

Nora sighed in exasperation.

"N-no! No, that… That - tha…" her hand on her forehead, she frowned for a moment, before grabbing Ren by the wrist, and pulling him into the kitchens.

Before long, he'd been placed firmly into a seat, where he was now sitting and watching as Nora turned around, and offered him a steaming plate of syrup-covered pancakes.

… Wait, what?

"Uuuh…" she rubbed the back of her head nervously, "Ta-da!"

As strange as the prospect of Nora displaying nerves and agitation was, it was easily eclipsed by what the information he was presented with showed, clearer than crystal.

"Uh… R-Renny?"

Had…

"Nora…"

"Y-yes?"

"Did you… Just…" he murmured, his eyes widening in disbelief, "... Make _me_ pancakes?"

"U-uh, y-yeah! I-if you don't like it, I'll just - uh - eat them myself! It's no biggie, I swear - and y'know, I j-just thought I'd do something in ret-return since you do all this nice stuff for me - like make me, y'know, pancakes - and I wanted to remind you th-that you're like - like completely appreciated and - well, everyone cares about you! Ha - haha…"

Ren was silent. And not because he didn't want to say anything, as per usual, no…

For the first time in almost a decade, Nora had him completely lost for words.

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **ThatDragonDude:** **Well, I guess that means I've successfully made Torchwick an intimidating presence on screen - which, uh, wow. It's really fantastic to hear that your writing can have that kind of effect on people.**

 **ian25rebel:** **I'm afraid that that isn't exactly up to me *takes a sidelong glance at Port* but who knows? Maybe it will.**

 **Bomberguy:** **I mean, to be fair, he _had_ to exact righteous justice upon Nora for daring to defile his desks. It's his duty as a teacher! (Totally)**

 **General Response:** **It's great to see everyone liked the Jaune and Blake rooftop trist! It was a scene that was super difficult to write for me, since it involved, well, Blake and Jaune, who are deceptively difficult to write believably sometimes.**

* * *

 **CHARACTER PAIRING POLL**

 **Yes, this is totally still on. The current leading vote is a grand total of... Two! If you want to change that, then here are the listings:**

 **Roman & Peaches -** 2

 **Ruby & Weiss - **1

 **Blake & Jaune - **1

 **Coco & Port - **1

 **Roman & Taiyang - **1

 **Roman & Oobleck - **1

 **Weiss & Nora - **1

 **So far, the things people have been most interested in have shaped up to be what I expected the _least,_ and although time and additional votes may change that. If you don't know, which given the amount of votes I've thus far received you might not, this is a contest for a single one shot, written by yours truly, that revolves around two characters of your choosing and is _totally canon_ to the universe of Lawbreaker to Lecturer.**

 **So... If you're interested, just leave a review saying which pair of characters you want to see, and why - be it wanting to see Port and Neo's actual fight, or wanting to see Torchwick and Junior conduct a Pulp Fiction style raid on a debtor's house - and your vote will go towards exactly that. Simple!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, so uh... Wow. This took _ages_. I figure I at least owe an explanation, and it's pretty much that I have been hit very hard by a transition into a _very_ different educational environment. TL;DR - I get a whole lot more work and it _really_ doesn't help me focus on writing. I've got a special announcement to make at the end of the chapter so please read it.**

 **As always, review responses will be there too!**

* * *

 **Chapter 16**

The scenery of Beacon was the perfect backdrop, at least as far as Torchwick was concerned, for a bit of good old-fashioned sadism.

The mesmerisingly beautiful carvings on every wall inspired images of widespread unemployment. The sight of warm rays of sunset splayed out across the myriad gardens cleared his head, allowing him to think of just the right inflation rate for a country on the brink of collapse. For every brat he saw walking out across the grounds, it was one hundred thousand more Lien out of the treasury.

Writing the Schnee's extra credit assignment - and making sure to make it as impossible as possible in the process - was proving to be _even more_ entertaining than he'd first imagined.

"U-um, P-Professor…?"

Somewhere in the back of his head, a very small part of Torchwick tried to alert him to the fact that someone was talking to him - one that was roundly ignored in favour of listening to the thousands of other small parts that were currently putting an economic disaster the likes of which Remnant had never seen before down to paper.

"P-Professor!"

Torchwick briefly looked up from the table he was sat at in a small moment of clarity, and narrowed his eyes. The voice he was hearing was vaguely familiar, but that wasn't normally enough of a reason to care - no, what caught his attention was a matter _much_ more pressing.

"P-Professor T-T-Torchwick!"

He turned around from the window, and into the plain-looking eyes of a clumsy, skittish, stuttering excuse of a staff member.

"P-Professor, I - I'm not sure if you've noticed, and if you know already I'm s-sorry, b-but -" she attempted to say, her tongue putting up a valiant effort to hold back the words stampeding toward the exit of her mouth into the open air, "B-b-but…"

 _B-b-but_ , unfortunately for her, whatever she was talking about couldn't have been important enough for Torchwick to give a shit.

"How'd you get into my room?" he asked plainly.

She went completely still, and in the place of any kind of actual response or explanation a frantic stream of random gibberish started spewing out of her mouth faster than one of his getaway vehicles would out of a crime scene. Needless to say, it got annoying quickly.

The stream of unintelligible stuttering was only cut off by a quick flick to her forehead.

"I'd rather have whatever you're saying in _human_ speech, please."

She stood still for a moment, eyes wide as saucers and every limb frozen; before she coughed into her hand once, small amounts of pink dusting her cheeks.

She took a deep breath, then looked into his eyes.

And then immediately flinched as she realised - presumably - that she'd just made eye contact with another human being. Her gaze promptly fled straight to the floor in terror.

Torchwick struggled not to laugh out loud.

"W-well," she eventually blurted out, "I… I…"

For every second she was unable to say anything, Torchwick's eyebrow rose a little bit further up his forehead.

"... Your door was unlocked."

"Oh."

She began to tap her fingers together, lip quivering and foot grinding nervously against the floor.

"So, is that it?" Roman asked.

"W-w-well…"

He sighed, his hand coming to rest on his forehead.

"Look," he interrupted, "I'm a man with limited time."

Torchwick didn't miss the way the girl's face twisted in worry - and the palm pressed to his face helped to conceal the grin that sprouted at the sight.

"So," he continued, "I'm going to give you an allowance of thirty minutes -"

His grin widened as her eyes began to fill with hope at the prospect.

"- but the _catch_ is that every time you fail to spit out a sentence properly, I'll deduct a minute."

That glimmer of optimism leaving her eyes was so satisfying it was almost _cathartic._

"I-I-I…" she hesitated for a moment, biting her lip so hard it looked like her mouth would start spurting blood like a fountain.

"That's a minute gone."

She flinched.

"W-well, I d-don't know if you knew or n-not, and if you already d-did, I'm s-sorry, b-but I wanted t-to ask if you knew that you were b-being… B-being..."

"Being _what?_ " Torchwick drawled, "The suspense is _killing_ me - and you lost eight minutes there, bringing you down to twenty one."

"B-being f-f-fo -"

"That makes twenty."

"B-being…"

"Nineteen."

She stood silent for a moment, clenching her fists and squeezing her eyes as tightly shut as possible. He was honestly surprised she hadn't curled up into a ball from the sheer frustration - or embarrassment. It was hard to tell.

… Being honest? It was probably the latter.

"N-n-n-never mind!" she blurted out.

And with that, she bursted out of the room so fast it almost looked like she'd vanished into thin air. Torchwick sat completely still for a moment, basking in the lingering amusement.

It was honestly hard to believe that was one of his coworkers; someone with a personality like that wouldn't survive a minute in the teaching profession even if they were teaching _normal_ kids. It was harder still to believe someone like that would come to tell him something of her own accord.

Regardless, Torchwick couldn't find room to complain - after all, with the newfound quiet in his room, he could finally get back to business.

*X*

Pyrrha sighed as she placed her combat gear back into her locker, uniform pulled over her shoulders once again. Another combat lesson. Another victory. More praise was once again heaped upon her, and the opponent this time was one of the more polite ones - they accepted their loss, smiled, shook her hand and moved on.

She'd been paying no attention to any of it.

How could she? The only battle she could think about at the moment was one with a girl two thirds her size, unarmed, with the Team WNNR dorm room as her arena. A battle far easier than even the one she'd just walked away from, tenfold easier than any of the ones she had fought before, and yet one that her shaking more so than any other before.

Maybe it was that instead of Milo and Akouo, this was a battle she'd have to fight with her words. Maybe it was because this time she'd _have_ to be on the attack.

 _You only have to do a little work yourself. Not too bad, right?_

She shook her head. It wasn't doing her any good thinking about this - she couldn't bring herself to take a stand against her leader. That was all that counted in the end; whatever the cause of her fear might have been.

She took a step out into the hallway. The musky, steaming air of the locker room most likely wasn't doing any good for her mood, after all. Perhaps she could take another trip to the library to clear her head; or perhaps she could pay a visit to Yang and Ruby - they were, after all, her only real friends at Beacon. Just… Anywhere but her dorm room.

 _You're running away._

She pressed onward.

 _You being afraid is just an excuse._

Her teeth grit together painfully. She needed something to distract herself from her own disparaging thoughts, and quickly - no matter what it was.

And the loud crash that she'd _just_ heard from behind her might have provided the perfect opportunity.

She turned around, and then watched as a clanging, blonde messy heap was sent flying like a ragdoll from some point around the corner by an unseen force. A moment later, she realised that the gangly mess was roughly the shape of one Jaune Arc from combat class - the leader of Yang and Ruby's team, if she remembered correctly.

And sauntering up to him was another boy - Cardin Winchester.

"Sorry, Arc." he said, "Didn't mean to trip you up there."

The smirk on his face told Pyrrha exactly the opposite, and she was much more inclined to trust it over what came out of the boy's mouth.

"It's… No problem, Cardin." the blonde replied, hauling himself to his feet and dusting his now messy jeans off. He tried to walk away, but was stopped dead in his tracks when Winchester's arm snaked over his shoulder.

"I don't know…" the boy drawled, a smirk beginning to worm its way across his face, "I wanna make it up to you, _Arc._ How about we hang out for a bit, huh?"

"I - I really don't have time today." the boy replied, "I'm looking for someone."

The other boy's arm only tightened around him.

"Oh come on, Jaune-y boy. You can always take a bit of time out for your ol' buddy _Cardin!_ "

Pyrrha's fists clenched. The sight infuriated her, and it wasn't the way the gangly boy winced when Winchester clamped his arm tighter around him, nor the look of complete resignation on his face that did so.

He'd said _today._ This wasn't the first time this had happened.

How long had this been going on for? How hadn't she _noticed?_

She turned around and began to stride down the hallway. This was absolutely pathetic - for a student studying to be a huntsman, a protector of the people, at an academy as venerated as Beacon to be the type to bully those weaker than them was, to put it simply, unacceptable. Shameful, even.

Her teeth grit against each other painfully.

… _But what could she do about it?_

She ground to a halt instantly as she heard the pair's footsteps start coming down the hallway.

 _The solution to your problem is literally staring you in the face, Pyrrha._

She looked down at her open palm once again.

It wasn't shaking this time.

 _Time for Pyrrha Nikos to take action._

She turned around almost immediately, and then strode with newfound purpose back down the hallway. What could she do? Who was she _kidding?_ She was the four-time champion of the Mistralian regional tournaments. She'd graduated top of her class in Sanctum with record-breaking results.

And she wasn't going to sit idly by and do nothing while someone else got bullied.

She rounded the corner, and then flinched a little when she was instantly met with the pair of them face to face.

"H-hello!" she said, smiling.

The Winchester only raised an eyebrow. The blonde sighed, but said nothing.

They then promptly walked straight past her.

She followed.

"So, um, what are you two doing?" she asked.

Moments passed, and then Winchester turned around to meet her eyes - and Pyrrha couldn't help but notice a slight twitch in his eyebrow. He clearly hadn't been expecting this.

"We're just two guys hanging out." he lied through his teeth, "And we don't need interruptions. Ain't that right, Jaune?"

"Sure." the blonde murmured, before a nervous chuckle escaped his lips.

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed immediately.

"Are you sure? I'm rather certain when two friends spend time together, one of them isn't supposed to look completely miserable."

The Winchester frowned, and his lips curled into a snarl.

"How me and my _buddy_ here spend our time is none of your business."

He then turned around, pulling his hapless victim along with him.

Or, at least, he _would have_. But it was made much more difficult by Pyrrha's foot crashing into the side of his head hard enough to send him flying into the wall. He didn't even have enough time to bring his Aura up.

And now he was out cold.

Pyrrha blinked once. Twice. Three times.

She'd… Done it. She'd done it, it had been easy, and it felt surprisingly _good_ \- despite the fact that she may have just given the boy mild concussion.

"Um…" she just barely caught notice of a voice from behind her.

Pyrrha turned to the blonde that Winchester had, mere moments earlier, been harrassing.

"... You didn't need to do that." he murmured, eyes glued to the carpet and his hands clenched into fists.

She flinched.

It was a pose Pyrrha had seen all too often in the settling dust of an ending tournament match, the crowd cheering her name in the distance - the bunched fist and resentful glare of every opponent who'd taken their losses badly. A look of complete _humiliation._

A familiar tug of guilt pulled on Pyrrha's stomach.

"I-I'm sorry - I didn't mean to -"

"I-it's fine."

"O-oh."

Any further conversation was promptly eaten whole by an all-consuming awkward silence. Pyrrha fumbled while looking desperately for something - anything to say. She had, after all, just made the boy seem to feel _worse_ than he had been around _Cardin!_

"So... Um…" she reached for the last thing she could vaguely remember the boy talking about for a conversation topic. "You… Said you were _looking_ for someone?"

The boy's eyes widened, and whatever spell had been holding him was gone in an instant.

"Oh, yeah! I should, uh, probably get back to that." he mumbled, before quickly turning tail and dashing off the corridor.

Pyrrha gave chase.

"So…" she began, walking right by his side, "Who is it you're looking for?"

The boy sighed, and began to try and walk a little faster.

She didn't relent.

"Are they someone on your team?"

The boy sighed.

"... Yeah. My partner." he muttered, the resignation in his voice clear.

"Blake Belladonna, right?"

"Wait, you know -?"

Pyrrha quirked an eyebrow.

"Of course I do. Yang and Ruby told me all about you both - although I, uh," Pyrrha scratched the back of her head, "Never really got the chance to talk to you in person."

The times she'd wanted to visit Yang's team played in her head - too many to count - but they all concluded with the image of her team leader dragging her away for some dull new task. Her teeth grit together at simply the thought of it.

"Wait, you know Yang and Ruby?" Jaune asked, "Does that mean you're, uh…"

"Yes?"

"Yang's friend?"

Pyrrha's lips relaxed into a smile.

"That's correct!"

"Nice to meet you, I guess." he said, stopping and extending a hand, "My name's Jaune Arc - although Yang's probably already told you that."

Pyrrha reached out and took it. And it held. For… A rather long time.

Her eyelid twitched.

"Jaune…?"

"What's yours?"

Pyrrha's entire body froze from end to end.

"What do you mean?"

Jaune chuckled nervously.

"I mean, y'know, your name. I thought you'd want to introduce yourself."

Pyrrha's eyes widened.

"Wait… You don't know who I am?"

"Well, I know you know Yang and Ruby pretty well, and they spend a lot of time with you - and I also know you're a pretty great fighter, you're on the ice queen's team and I think your name was…" his voice trailed off for a moment, and his eyebrow furrowed in thought.

"... Pyre… Nickel?"

The paralysis broke. In its wake, Pyrrha soon found herself laughing. When a slight blush emerged on Jaune's cheeks, the laughter only grew louder.

"It's Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos."

"It's nice to meet you, um," the boy coughed, " _Pyrrha."_

"You too, Jaune," she replied, her smile growing by the second.

The two shortly went off through the hallways in search of a missing partner, laughing along the way.

*X*

Glynda's eyes groggily parted.

It took every ounce of will to not smash the alarm clock into the wall the moment she felt it drilling through her eardrums. If Glynda had to list the thousands of mentally strenuous exercises she took on a near daily basis, that would likely have been chief among them.

Until, that was, the recent addition of having to talk to Torchwick became a part of her typical routine. That man was just about irritating enough to top the list, despite the fact she'd only had the displeasure of working with him for -

She clapped her hands to her head to try and squeeze the constant fretting out - and, as she'd expected, it didn't work. Barely a minute into a new working day and she was already stressing herself out with thoughts of that insufferable man.

The covers flew off of her in an instant, hitting the cupboards with a muffled thump. The mattress twisted, and she - along with her seven pillows - promptly spilt out across her carpeted floor. The pillows then slipped underneath her, before lifting her to her feet like velvety hands, leaving her staring directly into her bedside mirror.

Something that vaguely resembled Glynda Goodwitch stared back at her.

The blurry image came into focus as her glasses flew onto her nose.

Something that vaguely resembled Glynda Goodwitch stared back at her.

… Something in _dire_ need of a coffee. Or three. Or maybe seven.

Perhaps twelve.

She stumbled out of her room, the front door opening as she stepped through. As she walked away, it clicked shut almost silently - it wouldn't do to wake up any students with ghastly noises at a conspicuously early hour of the morning. She really did try her best not to be Port, after all.

The hallways were almost completely dark as she crept her way through them - the morning sun peeking through the windows barely providing enough light to see her way forward. It didn't help that her vision was constantly blocked by her own eyes trying to force themselves shut.

 _No._ Now was _not_ the time for sleeping. Now was the time for caffeine, and then it would be the time for work.

The haze of fatigue still settled firmly in her skull, she stepped into the staff room. She reached out in the direction she vaguely remembered the light switch being in. Her hand, of course, met nothing.

… Where _was_ that confounded switch, again?

She stepped through the room, the intrusive arms of her sleeplessness constantly shaking her legs in a vain attempt to pull her to the floor, the complete darkness forcing her to navigate the room with her hands.

 _Click!_

Glynda's eyelids weren't quick enough to shut out the blinding light that had abruptly filled the room - meaning her arms had to rise to the occasion and shield her face in their stead. Which, unfortunately, left her all too unprepared when a cylinder of cool metal pressed into the back of her neck.

"Don't move an _inch,_ "

Her face reflexively set into a scowl at the sound of the depressingly familiar voice.

"Professor, what exactly are you doing?" she asked, turning around to the sarcastic drivel's source.

Roman Torchwick stared right back at her, smirking.

"Oh, that's _you_ , Purple?" he said, pointing the broom he'd just been levelling at her neck back down at the floor. "Pardon, I just mistook you for a shambling corpse."

Glynda sighed, walking over to the coffee machine, a fresh mug in hand.

"Something tells me even if I were dead I'd still be doing this job," Glynda mumbled as the machine whirred to life.

"... A night of the working dead." Torchwick chuckled to himself, leaning on the broom's handle. "Wouldn't that be something?"

"It would. You'd probably use the ensuing chaos as an opportunity to escape."

Torchwick's eyes narrowed.

"Well, that makes two surprises." he murmured, "One: that you're playing along with a joke, and two: that you seriously think I wouldn't be staying right where I am. If there are corpses wandering the streets, where's safer than the building with an army on campus?"

"One: I don't have the strength of will not to at the moment," Glynda explained, "And two… I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Now, what does _that_ mean, I wonder?"

Glynda didn't humour him with an answer - the _ding_ of the coffee machine fulfilling its duty told her that she had other, far more pressing priorities.

She took a sip from the steaming mug of coffee she'd just made, and then breathed a sigh of relief as her surroundings - and her own thoughts - finally came into focus. Including what she'd just realised the criminal was carrying in his hands.

"Professor, why are you carrying a broomstick?"

"Why do you think?"

Glynda's brow furrowed, examining the broom itself more carefully.

"... You don't seriously think I'm using this to try anything shady, do you?" Torchwick asked, expression completely deadpan.

Her eyelid twitched slightly.

 _Of course I do!_

"Of course not. That would be ridiculous."

Torchwick's blank expression soon transformed into a knowing grin.

"... Sure."

"So, what _are_ you using it for?"

"Cleaning."

Glynda had to catch her mug with her Semblance to prevent it from crashing into the floor.

"... Cleaning?"

"Did I stutter?"

"You didn't, but you _never_ stutter. Even when you're lying."

"Does this room _look_ like I'm lying?"

It… Didn't. The tables and chairs that would usually be strewn about the room randomly, littered with mountains of Oobleck's half-finished paperwork, were spotless and arranged neatly next to each of the room's tables - which, for once, weren't slathered in stains from all the times Peaches had let a coffee cup slip through her fingers.

The cobwebs above the cupboards, typically thicker than the undergrowth in the Emerald Forest, were little more than a memory. The cracks in the floor from Port walking around a little too excitedly had disappeared too.

… It even looked like he'd given the room a new paint job.

She could hear her breath hiss as it passed through her clenched teeth - followed by Torchwick's laughter when, presumably, he heard it too.

"... Why? What purpose does cleaning the staff room serve?"

Torchwick raised an eyebrow.

"Why'd I clean this room?" he laughed once again, as if he'd just told the most funny joke in the world, "Because it was a pigsty so nasty even Beacon's remarkable cleaning team couldn't be bothered to fix it up."

His laughter gradually began to die out, perhaps as he began to realise that Glynda had gone entirely silent.

"What are you planning, Torchwick?"

It was only once the criminal's eyes widened in surprise that she realised the question lingering at the forefront of her mind had somehow managed to slip out across her tongue.

"Gee, I wonder." Torchwick drawled, grinning and tapping his chin to his finger in mock thought, "What if I told you... That I didn't have a plan at all?"

Glynda scoffed.

"Forget I even asked."

She turned, making straight for the door and her escape to Torchwick's irritating company.

"You honestly think I'm lying, don't you?"

Glynda's hand paused, hovering ever so slightly over the doorknob. She then turned around, staring the criminal in the face. It, as ever, was still plastered with that migraine-inducing smile.

"Of course I do," she replied, the little patience she had left for subtlety flying out of her all at once, "Because you simply _can't_ be trusted, professor."

"I earn your boss's favour, become the student favourite, make nice with your colleagues and you _still_ don't trust me?" Torchwick cried, theatrically clutching his hand to his heart, "I'm _wounded,_ Purple!"

"That's right. You were a criminal who was plucked from prison that immediately became an asset to the school. Beloved by students and colleagues alike. You even…" Glynda took another resentful look around the staff room, "... _Clean._ Voluntarily. It's, quite frankly, too good to be true. And I'd be failing at my own job if I were to treat it any other way."

Torchwick's expression was something almost reminiscent of a pout.

"I mean, if failing at your job means you actually have a little fun for once in your life, maybe you should give it a try. It's not like Ozpin would provide any sincere consequences for it."

Glynda was about to respond, but shortly cut herself off. She hated to admit it, but he was _right._ At least about the latter part.

"It's not about whether or not the Headmaster chooses to reprimand me for performing poorly, it's about the standards I set _myself._ "

"You spend every minute of every day stressing about something, right?"

Glynda tensed.

"T-That's preposterous."

Torchwick simply stared at her, and she found herself completely unable to meet his eyes.

"... _Sure._ "

Glynda took a deep breath, and forced her shoulders to relax. Getting any more frustrated would only prove him _right._

"Unless you've got any further criticisms of the way I do my job, I think I'll take my leave."

It was just as she was twisting the door knob that Torchwick decided to butt in once again.

"Actually," he said, "I _do_ have one complaint."

Glynda had been hoping he didn't have anything left to say - although she should probably have realised by now that a day when Torchwick had nothing left to say would be the day he was dead.

Either way, she couldn't just walk out on him now. _That_ would be handing him a victory her pride wouldn't allow her to give away.

"... What is it?" she asked,

"You _really_ shouldn't get that stutter girl to pass on any messages for you." Torchwick drawled.

Glynda flinched.

"Wait, how did you know -"

She cursed internally the moment the words left her mouth - and the moment Torchwick burst out into peals of laughter.

"Y'know," he wheezed, "That was more or less a completely blind guess."

A long, pained groan left Glynda's chest.

"Look, professor, I hardly think it's unprofessional to ask someone else to -"

"She wasn't able to finish a single sentence properly!" he wheezed, "Not a _single_ one!"

He was now clutching his sides, hunched over with his shoulder . Her fist clenched in an attempt to quell the irritation slowly beginning to claw its way through her ironclad discipline.

"If Peaches was unable to match my expectations of her, then that's -"

"She _actually_ got embarrassed and bolted from the room before she could even tell me what she was supposed to!"

That was it. This was enough. This was, to put it simply, more than she could handle. Every notion of upholding her image fell away, and -

Glynda Goodwitch burst out laughing.

"Serves me right, I suppose," she muttered, "That really _does_ sound like something that Peaches would do."

Torchwick's laughter had stopped dead. He was now staring at her in brazen, wide-eyed shock. She took a moment to collect herself, before, against all odds, a grin began to emerge on her face.

"What?" she asked, "Is seeing me laugh enough to finally leave you lost for words?"

"Yes." he replied bluntly, without so much as an instant of hesitation, "I'm surprised to find out you even _can_."

She chuckled slightly, reaching for the door and taking one final sip of her coffee.

"So, are you going to tell me what you were supposed to or not?"

She turned to him just as she was stepping through the opened door.

"A student's been following you in-between classes." she explained, "Blake Belladonna. She's missing her lessons, so you might want to address it."

"Oh, that?" he murmured, as his grin began to reappear, "I already knew. And don't worry, I _fully_ intend to do something about it."

 _Of course._ Glynda rolled her eyes, closing the door on her way out. All of that drama and theatrics for information the professor had known the whole time - and she couldn't even find the strength to be mildly irritated.

After all, at this point it was more or less to be expected from the criminal.

However, she couldn't help but smile. It was only for a brief moment, but laughing for once had actually gotten Torchwick to _shut up._

… Perhaps she should laugh more often.

* * *

 **Super Special Announcement Thingie**

* * *

 **So, this is a little difficult to say _just_ as this fic hits 200 favs and 300 follows...**

 **As much as I enjoy writing this fic, and as much as I enjoy seeing you all react to each new chapter I put out, it gets sorta grating writing nothing but Lawbreaker when ideas for other stuff are flying around my head. Specifically, a fic I put out a lil while back named 'Little Cinder' - so I'm probably going to be focusing on that story for a bit. Make no mistake, LtL _will_ return, and with the amount of time I'll have to figure out just what I want to do with it, it'll be better than ever!**

 **If the whole idea of a miniature, chuunibyou Cinder who wants direly to be the evil-est person in Remnant strikes your fancy, I'd advise checking Little Cinder out.**

 **Lastly - the people have spoken. I'll be releasing Roman & Peaches at some point in the future - although whether the near or far future may be up in the air for quite a while.**

* * *

 **Review Responses:**

 **LeoneHaxor: W-Woah. The whole prospect of this fic getting a TVTropes page is kind of a surreal one, but I guess that's understandable? It's definitely great to hear you feel this way about the story, though! I hope future updates will be able to meet your expectations.**

 **TheHolyBlade: That headcanon is certainly... An elaborate one. It's also one I can neither confirm nor deny, unfortunately.  
**


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